Falling In
by Cockapoo
Summary: Post-Inheritance. If Nasuada abandons him, can Murtagh find love again? But who is trying to kill him, and why? What about the girl with him now, who saved his life? Romance, adventure...MurtaghxOC. Enjoy!
1. Broken

**A/N: Hi everyone! For all my returning readers, thank you for sticking with me! Your reviews, and your readership, mean a lot to me. More than I can say. For my new readers, hello, and I hope you enjoy my newest story! Couple things. The title is Falling In, inspiration taken directly from the song Falling In by Lifehouse. If you haven't heard it, go listen. Beautiful song. The title for this chapter is from the song Broken by Lifehouse. **

**So. Background info. This story comes in after Inheritance, which is the last book in the Inheritance Cycle, and basically picks up where the book left off…just a bit later. It is an AU, so I reserve the right to play around with stuff if I so desire. Obviously, since this is the first chapter, character development is just beginning. You will find out more about everyone soon, I promise. If this chapter leaves you with questions, it was probably intentional. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, please keep reading! Love you always! **

**Cockapoo xxx**

**PS: The A/Ns will be a lot shorter after this, I promise. I just wanted to say some stuff that I needed to get out first. ON WITH THE STORY. **

Chapter 1: Broken

Dim, flickering candlelight lit her room. Ariana stood in front of a large, floor-length mirror, staring at her reflection, watching tears fall from her reddening eyes. She should have expected something like this. But it still hurt. When would he make the announcement? Her knees felt shaky, and Ariana dropped onto her bed, sitting on the very edge.

She had honestly believed he loved her. Her mistake. His face swam to the forefront of her mind – the thin nose, the finely carved mouths, his sandy hair and almond-shaped brown eyes. The strong body, built from hours training to fight. Orrin had stepped into her life and within moments had stolen her heart from her, as easily as he would pluck a flower from its stem.

For months he had courted her, and it never once occurred to her that he wouldn't marry her. Yes, he was King of Surda, but that had never affected her. Ariana didn't believe in giving people additional respect unless they had earned it. Titles meant nothing to her. She sighed, fingering one of the flowers embroidered onto her silk bedspread, watching a tear fall onto one of the pink petals. They had both been broken by the war. But that hadn't been enough to cement their relationship. Not even the icing on the cake. If there even was a metaphorical cake.

Orrin had become a heavy drinker, and though he had been trying to kick the habit for years, she had been the one to help him. But on bad nights, when nightmares of the fear and stress of battles and planning them had gotten to him, Orrin could go through bottles of liquor without even a thought of stopping.

But the pity welling up for him in her breast died when Ariana's mind turned to her own experiences. She had never known either of her parents – she had seen her father several times, but he had only stayed with her for moments, and had never told her his name, saying she would be safer not knowing whose daughter she was. And her abilities had brought her to the attention of people she would gladly have spent her life without ever meeting.

Walking slowly to the mirror, Ariana reached up, fingering her ear. The pointed tip had marked her as different from the very start. A brand of the elvish blood in her – although her other parent was human. She had never figured out which was which – had never actually seen the tips of her father's ears. And didn't recall every knowing her mother.

She took a deep breath, feeling anger begin to course through her, displacing the sadness and shock. Ariana tilted back her head, eyeing her reflection, looking at her vivid coloring, the result – or so she was convinced – of her elfin blood. Her straight, fiery red hair, twisted into an intricate knot on her head, decorated with small pink and white flowers, a few shorter tendrils hanging down to frame her face, barely brushing her narrow chin. Her high cheekbones, her slender eyebrows. But Ariana's favorite features were her eyes, although she knew many other people thought her odd for them. They were large, framed by thick, long lashes, and a stunning midnight blue color.

But Ariana had never really considered her physical defects until now, when she was forced to. The memory, still so fresh, prompted another tear to escape her, and she wiped it away angrily. He wasn't worth her tears.

Of course, they came anyway. And she let it all replay again, seeing it unfold in her mind's eye.

_Three hours earlier, standing before the very same mirror, Ariana stepped into her dress, tying at the nape of her neck the two straps that held the dress up. It was a gorgeous gown, a deep sapphire blue in color to "bring out her eyes," as her old nurse had exclaimed excitedly. Looking at herself in the mirror, she had to admit the dress fit perfectly, emphasizing her small waist and giving her the appearance of being taller than she really was. Her shoulders and most of her back were bare, as well as her arms. _

_ She sat, and began doing her hair. An hour later it was up in an elegant twist, and she secured a few flowers in her tresses before her eyes fell upon the shoes left out for her – a delicate make, a shimmering silver, but with a very high heel. Her lip curling, she stepped into them and then opened her door, gliding down the hallway. _

_ The rooms should have all been empty, since the party had begun nearly two hours ago, but as she passed one Ariana heard voices. Frowning, she turned the knob and soundlessly opened the door. And in a moment her world fell apart. _

_ Orrin was bent over a woman, both lying on the bed. He was kissing her fervently, and she was holding him tightly. Ariana sagged against the doorframe, her mind reeling. Neither of them had seen her, but she knew who the woman was. That skin tone was decisive. _

_ Nasuada. _

_ Ariana shut the door silently, stumbling back to her room. Somehow managing to lock the door, she collapsed in a corner, the dress settling softly around her in a cool embrace of thin, slippery satin. She felt shivery, feverish. Unbelieving. Too shocked to cry. _

_ This was to be their engagement party! Ariana held out her hand, studying her bare finger. Tonight he would have slipped an engagement band over her skin, maybe even with a stone set in the metal. Maybe he would go ahead with it anyway. But deep inside, Ariana knew better. _

_ She remembered wondering, when Orrin had first begun to pursue her, why he hadn't married Nasuada. They were both leaders, and understood the burdens that came with their position. They were single, and had been good friends for years – maybe since birth. There were rumors that Nasuada harbored feelings for the vanished Rider, Murtagh, but he hadn't made a single appearance in years, so that shouldn't have been a problem. _

_ But now, Orrin would marry Nasuada. It would be convenient for them both, and maybe he really loved her too. _

_ And then the tears had come, hot liquid streaming down her face, and she had cried into her dress, sobbing her heart out alone in the darkened room. Wishing her father were still alive. Wishing there was someone to hold her, someone to protect her from all the pain and fear and darkness her eighteen years of life had brought her. But she was alone. Broken, and alone. _

_ No one came to knock at her door, to ask why she hadn't come down. The only people who would have were her parents – she didn't know what had happened to her mother, and her father was gone. She hadn't seen him in years. Maybe he was dead, maybe he had found another woman and had other children and forgotten her. _

_ Ariana stood up, her shoes making sharp sounds on the wooden floor as she moved to stand before the mirror, staring at her red eyes and tear-stained face. _

Suddenly cheers rose up from below her, and the blood drained from her face. She could see Orrin standing there, Nasuada by his side, being congratulated on his impending wedding, and turned away from the mirror, her breast heaving. The dress felt too insubstantial now, and Ariana felt more exposed and cold than anything. Something drew her eyes to the mirror again, and her lip began to quiver as she studied herself.

She was slender, her body stripped of fat and toughened by strenuous hours of training in both mental and physical exercise, as well as the use of the magic she now had at her fingertips. But that also meant that there were only small curves on her body. Ariana couldn't even hope to compete with Nasuada's curvaceous body, and she knew it. Another problem was her height. Elves were generally tall, but Ariana was small by anyone's standards. She had seen Nasuada enough while she was visiting on tours of duty and the like to know that the top of her head would be below Nasuada's shoulder – and Orrin had sometimes complained about her lack of height too. She had laughed it off earlier, although he thought that if she had a larger stature she would command more respect, but apparently he had meant it. And then there were her freckles. Elves never had freckles! Humans did, though, and they were yet another flaw in her appearance. Another reason for Orrin not to love her as much as she did him, despite all his character flaws. Despite his drinking, and his quick temper.

Ariana turned sideways in the mirror. All her curves were either nonexistent or much smaller than Nasuada's. No wonder Orrin hadn't bothered much with her. He'd probably bounded after Nasuada the moment she batted her eyelashes at him. Ariana sighed, wishing she at least had more of a tan. Her skin looked white when she mentally compared it to Nasuada's rich coloring. And she had often gotten teased for her eyelashes too. Although her hair was a flaming red, her eyelashes were black. The good thing was that they emphasized her eyes more. But it was unnatural, and she knew it. Ariana chewed her lip, raising her chin to make her neck appear longer, wishing she were taller. While her small size and light build were practical for many things, they were little use in attracting a man.

She was beginning to feel stifled, as if her lungs were so far compressed she couldn't draw in any air. Stumbling to the window, she thrust it open, leaning out into the dark night sky, gulping in mouthfuls of the sweet air.

The dark landscape caught her eye, the Beor Mountains in the distance standing proud and tall in the night sky, reaching up to touch the stars. Before she knew it, Ariana was moving. From under the bed she dragged out her saddlebags and threw in some clothes, carefully packed in her weapons, slipped a knife into the jeweled belt at her waist, and dropped the bags out the window. Carefully, tugging the dress up so it pooled over her knees, she slid her legs out the window and then dropped herself from one hand, landing in a crouch on the ground. Escaping from a second-story window, for her, was now child's play. No thought required.

The grass muffled her footsteps as she fled towards the stables, which were not too far away. Eldrvarya was awake, and he swung his head toward her as she reached him, hurriedly feeding him a few sugar cubs, stroking his mane. Ariana swung open the door of his stall, saddling and bridling him quickly. Although she liked to ride bareback, her dress was going to make things more difficult. Ariana stared down at herself, wishing she had thought to change, but at that moment the need to escape had overpowered her every other thought, and changing had seemed a waste of time.

Eldrvarya pawed at the ground, snorting. Ariana patted his neck, hoisting herself up to sit side-saddle. She had named him Eldrvarya because the word meant "burning" in the ancient language, and when he ran he was faster than any steed she had ever ridden or seen. Burning up the ground.

"Hlaupa," she whispered to him. _Run_.

Bending low over his neck, the wind whipping her face, Ariana tried to blot out thoughts of Orrin from her mind. But he kept working his way back into her thoughts. She remembered the little flowers he would leave her, sweets on her pillow, kisses on her cheek, on the back of her hand. He'd kissed her fully once, forcing his tongue into her mouth without her permission, and Ariana remembered jerking away from him, shocked by his audacity. Orrin had even tried to sneak into her bed. He'd had bruises and a limp for weeks.

Ariana bit her lip, willing herself not to dissolve into tears again. Tears were a weakness she never had time for. They used up too much energy, and took time to recover from. And time was something she had never had. He had probably liked her, she thought bitterly, because she had no father or brother to threaten him if he pushed too far.

Anger flowed through her, the adrenaline of the ride speeding its journey through her veins. For a few minutes she indulged herself, calling him every bad name under the sun that she could think of. But then, this entire mess was as much her fault as his. If there was one thing life had taught her so far, it was that she wasn't cut out for a successful romantic relationship. She was too damaged.

Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw the blood. Felt it on her hands, warm and wet, slippery. Felt the horror, the fear, the sickness that came with the loathing of what she did. Ariana dug her heels lightly into her steed's sides, and blinked back tears as she felt his powerful muscles tense as he ran faster, the landscape around them a blur.

But tonight her mind was intent on hating her. Memories, images flashed before her, forcing her to acknowledge them before they melted away. It began to drizzle, raindrops caressing her wind-whipped cheeks, catching in her hair and eyelashes. Eldrvarya was racing through a flat, wide expanse of grass, and she gave him free rein. Like her, he had been cooped up for too long. They needed to feel the wind at their backs, in their hair, whipping their faces.

That first night…Ariana blinked rapidly, gasping for breath, trying to banish the memory. Her own terror had nearly paralyzed her, and afterwards she had balked at the idea of repeating the task. She still had the scars.

The rain intensified, settling into a heavy downpour, and Ariana let her eyes flutter shut, trusting her horse to keep them on course to nowhere, enjoying the feel of the cool water on her exposed skin. She still sat sidesaddle, and let pride overcome her at having maintained her position for so long at such a speed. She wasn't one of the best horsewomen in the ranks for nothing. Although technically she had never been part of the ranks…

Her familiar poker face began to slide back into place. She could feel it as clearly as a piece of ice being passed languorously over her skin. No more tears. Here was a mask she could hide behind – one she had lived behind for years. Always be in control, she had taught herself. Because no one else gives a damn about you. That motto had slipped recently, and Ariana had learned that she had been right. People come and go. Only you can truly take care of yourself. Body, mind, and heart.

And for that reason, she had taught herself to detach easily. Ariana could separate herself from a problem, distancing herself and pretending it was happening to someone else. It was a cowardly but easy way to deal with life, as opposed to facing her trouble head-on. And, she suspected, it would make getting over Orrin and her heartbreak that much easier. Although by no means easy.

A glimmer of lights ahead distracted her from her thoughts, and Ariana straightened in the saddle, tugging on the rains lightly, waiting for Eldrvarya to slow to a canter and then a lazy walk. A city. She could find an inn to spend the night, which would be useful if the weather deteriorated further. But on the other hand, a young woman traveling alone at night would not be safe, even in an inn, which were always packed with men. And even if she could fight them all off if she had to, stories about her might circulate, and she wasn't sure who would pick up her trail. Many out there probably wanted to see her dead.

They were stationary now, and Ariana put her hand on the saddle, pulling herself towards the right as her body threatened to slide off the wet leather. Sometimes being female really made things difficult. Riding a horse in a dress without having your legs on the same side of said horse was a near impossibility.

That brought her attention back to her dress, and Ariana rubbed her bare shoulders, shivering as drops of rain trailed down her equally bare spine. "Damn it," she muttered in irritation. She couldn't go into an inn, tavern, or anything else dressed like this unless she was begging to be jumped.

A sneeze interrupted her, one that left her head spinning for a few moments after it ended. Time to ride fast and get out of this accursed rain. "Let's go," she decided, patting her horse's neck. He snorted, sneezed, shook his head, and then reared up with a loud whinny before crashing his forelegs into the mud, spraying it everywhere, and breaking into a smooth, gliding gallop.

The rain pelted her with freezing water droplets that were now anything but enjoyable. Ariana sneezed again, aware that she was very probably going to come down with something. But she had been through worse, like the time she'd run through a full-scale riot, complete with magicians randomly casting spells into the crowd, in a thunderstorm, with a dislocated shoulders, a broken clavicle, a long gash on her thigh, and other injuries she hadn't had time to heal before locating her target. And then she'd had to somehow successfully escape, and had managed it. Compared to that, this was a pathetic little sprinkling of water.

Those mountains she had seen from her window seemed much closer now, looming up before her, strong and fierce, their jagged peaks intimidating and close. Something wet and cold splashed onto her foot, and Ariana gripped the reins tightly with her tight hand before bending down to wipe the mud off with her left. Pulling on the reins, she slowed the horse slightly. The last thing she wanted was to be covered in mud.

The small town's torches and lamps shone brighter with proximity, and Ariana steered Eldrvarya away, giving the settlement a wide berth, thankful for the shadows and darkness that cloaked her. As soon as they left the lights behind, without even needing to be prompted, he picked up the pace again. Lulled by the gentle, recurring motion of his gallop, her eyes still tired from the tears they had shed, Ariana lay against his neck and closed her eyes, letting her drowsiness overpower her.

A loud whinny woke her. Ariana jerked upright, snatching the knife from her belt before she was even fully awake. Eldrvarya was staring at her, his equine eyes emanating worry. "What is it?" she whispered, brushing his mind with hers. But, being a horse, all he could send her was fear.

A quick glance around told Ariana that she had been asleep for far too long. Trees surrounded her, and the ground inclined steeply. They were in the Beors. And her senses, amplified beyond those which normal humans had, were picking up on things that had her instincts buzzing. Dropping to the ground, Ariana thanked the gods – if there were any – that it hadn't been raining in the mountains. The ground was firm. If it hadn't been, she would have had to remove her stupid heeled shoes, and that would have resulted in her tripping all over her dress. And if she was right, she didn't have time to change at the moment.

Ariana and her clothes were still sodden, but she paid that no heed. She could smell blood, and hear men's voices shouting up ahead. But they didn't seem to be saying anything. Just yelling. She rolled her eyes. Typical men.

Knife in hand, motioning for Eldrvarya to stay where he was and stay quiet, Ariana took a deep breath and crept up the slope, wincing as branches whipped against her, leaving red lines of blood on her face, neck, shoulders, and arms. She was cutting through the trees, sidling past bushes and brambles, wary of taking the somewhat clearer route for fear of emerging straight into the thick of things. She could handle herself in a fight, but preferred to know what she was getting into.

She froze. A hoarse scream of pain had sounded from in front of her, and then a different man cried out. The air was thick with the smell of blood. No matter how many times it had hit her, it sickened Ariana every time.

Steeling herself, Ariana picked up her pace, cutting quickly through the trees, her heart beginning to pound as she drew closer. But she knew she wasn't close enough – the sounds were still ahead of her, and she hadn't caught a single glimpse of the action. Her heart was in her mouth, her arms tense as she clutched her knife, wishing she'd thought to bring something more effective with her. A sword, a bow, anything. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

A terrifying roar blasted her eardrums without warning, and Ariana dropped to the ground with a scream, her heart pounding so fast she was positive she was going to either pass out or die. That roar had not been human – and it had been so loud and deep the very ground shook. Dying screams rose up from ahead, but this time Ariana stayed on the ground, panting and petrified. Whatever was before her, she wasn't sure she wanted to face it with nothing but a dagger to protect her.

How long she crouched on the ground, unwilling to move, Ariana wasn't sure. But within minutes the screams had stopped, and the metallic odor of blood was even stronger. Bile rose in her throat, but she forced it down. She could handle this. She'd seen worse. Right?

There was a low moan, a human sound. Nearly a whimper. Her ribs were expanding and contracting so fully that Ariana was convinced they were about to snap. One of the men was still alive. What if the beast didn't finish him off right away? At the very least, she could put him out of his misery. But then she would have to face the creature herself, and she was virtually unarmed…

A pained howl made her raise her head, her brow furrowed. It was definitely not a human sound – but it was full of misery. Very expressive. But why would the beast be howling in misery? In seconds, Ariana made up her mind. Tensing her thighs, she jumped over the bush in her way to get back onto a clearer path, and ran up the steep slope, adjusting the knife in her hand as she sprinted up, cursing the heels that made running difficult.

The trees around her vanished so rapidly that the bright moonlight dazzled her, and Ariana leaped back with a whimper, her hand shading her eyes as they adjusted. And then she moved her hand down.

Ariana, the girl who was rarely scared, the girl who was always in control, who never backed down from a fight or anything else once she was committed, whimpered and took two steps back, trembling. A huge – and she meant huge – red dragon crouched on the ground before her, snarling in her direction, displaying fangs at least as long as her arm. Probably longer. He was about the size of two houses, perhaps even larger, his smoldering eyes burning with rage and sorrow. Steam curled from his nostrils in gray plumes, spiraling up to the starry sky above. His blood-red wings were covering something on the ground.

Her breath hitched. The dragon had to be Thorn – how many dragons of this size and color were there in Alagaesia? Actually, she was pretty sure there were only two dragons currently here: Thorn and Fírnen. Who was green. So if this was Thorn, then where was…

"Murtagh," Ariana breathed, staring at Thorn's wings. The dragon growled, his chest rumbling, and Ariana squeaked, mentally berating herself moments later. She _never _squeaked. But there was something scary about being growled at by a huge, angry dragon who had strewn the woods with bodies. Which she had just noticed.

Her eyes widened as she took in the sheer number of corpses surrounded her. It looked as if a small battle had occurred here – fifty men, maybe even more, lay there, dead. The stench of death was overwhelming, but she ignored it. Some things you got used to. Others you learned to ignore. This was a bit of both.

His fangs were glistening with blood, but Ariana was more preoccupied with his eyes. He looked ready to murder her too. And when a dragon's blood was up, instinct and anyone with half a brain would tell you to run like hell.

She dropped the knife. The dull thump it made told her she was officially unarmed and insane. "Eka aí fricai," she whispered in the ancient language. _I am a friend_. He would have no choice but to believe her. Lying in the ancient language was an impossibility. And while he might not consider her a friend, he would have to accept that she meant no harm.

Those red eyes, split by black, vertical pupils, narrowed slightly before he exhaled. Still watching her closely, unblinking.

"Is that Murtagh?" Ariana asked, gesturing slowly towards where Thorn's wings obscured something from view.

The dragon growled again, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and her breathing quicken. Two steps back, slowly. No sudden moves. Leave the knife on the ground. Keep eye contact.

"Is he hurt?" _Is he alive?_

Without warning, Ariana felt a foreign presence smash against her mental walls. After a moment's hesitation, she lowered them, gasping as the dragon's mind brushed against her own. It was so filled with power and energy that she couldn't help feeling insignificant, and suddenly she understood why the Riders had been and were so powerful. Being bonded to a dragon…she couldn't even imagine it. But she now had a taste of just how powerful Thorn and his kind were.

Thorn didn't try to push his way into her memories, for which Ariana was thankful. She felt him ascertaining whether he could trust her or not, and it appeared he decided to.

_He's hurt_. Thorn's voice, deep and surprisingly musical, sounded in her mind, suffused with sorrow. _I can't heal him. _

Ariana nodded. She knew, from the moment he had entered her mind, that Thorn had realized she could use magic. So could dragons, but for them it was uncontrollable. The pain was palpable in his voice, and she closed her eyes.

_ I can try_, she offered. _If you let me_.

For a minute longer Thorn inspected her, and then he lowered his neck, bringing his eyes level with hers. Ariana froze, scarcely breathing, positive he could hear her heart thumping away like a caged bird. If he had changed his mind, and wanted to kill her, she prayed he did it quickly.

But he withdrew his sparkling ruby head, and then lifted his wings, shutting out the moon and stars, created a soft red canopy through which light barely filtered. Ariana stepped closer, trying to get a better look at the figure spread-eagled on the ground, her heart slowing as she took small steps forward. This was far more familiar territory than being threatened by a dragon. Blood, wounds, death…those she could deal with.

And the first thing she noticed was all the blood. Murtagh was covered with it, and Ariana hurried to his side, dropping to her knees, not caring that the grass and blood might stain her dress. After tonight, she planned to never wear it again.

"Barzûl," she muttered, the dwarf curse slipping from her tongue before she could contain it. Thorn gave a surprised snort behind her, but let her be. There was so much damage…

Ariana decided to go over his body and see what the injuries were, and then deal with the most pressing ones first. She only had so much energy in her body to draw on anyway. She started from his feet, since those were closest to her.

_Broken ankle. Cut on thigh. Gashes all over abdomen and chest. Broken shoulder. Bruised arms. Three broken fingers. Gash on neck. Bloodied hair – head wound? _

Ariana couldn't help noticing that he had a toned, strong body, his skin – or what she could see of it – well tanned. And he was tall, that was obvious. She slipped two fingers under his chin and gently, trying not to injure his head and neck more, turned his face towards her.

He was gorgeous.

No, no, not going to look at him that way. His face seemed unharmed – a small cut on his cheek, but nothing serious.

He was bloody handsome.

Ariana sighed. Getting attached to one man was bad enough. Just because Murtagh was handsome didn't mean he was a good person. She'd heard the rumors. He'd killed Hrothgar, served Galbatorix – he was Morzan's son, for heaven's sake! The son of the foremost of the Forsworn! And he was in love with Nasuada.

Who was with Orrin. Whom she was in love with.

Her head hurt.

And he was hurt.

Ariana shook her head in frustration, trying to clear her mind. Time to heal. "Hang in there, Murtagh," she whispered, reaching for the magic.

**A/N: Reviews, please! Tell me what you think! Just an introductory chapter, but I wanted to kind of get moving with the story at the same time. Hope you liked it! I even made it a bit longer than my usual chapters for you all! Proud of my quick update? LOL hope you all enjoyed this! R&R. BALLOONS FOR EVERYONE. :D**


	2. Who Are You?

**A/N: So I realized I forgot to say this last chapter, but THANK YOU everyone who voted! I chose her name from the top three – I believe Ariana was number two on the poll. So thanks for your input. Appreciate it :D **

**So the chapter title here coincidentally has the same name as a Carrie Underwood song I LOVE – thematically the chapter and song don't match up too much, but go listen to it! It's like the story of my life :P**

**Anyway, sorry for the uber long wait. CRAZY amount of work at school. But here is my next chapter, hope you enjoy :D**

**THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED, FAVORITED, SUBSCRIBED, AND READ! Means so much, especially when it's an OC story that's just getting started. Love you so much you guys!**

Chapter 2: Who Are You?

Ariana winced as a sharp stone dug into her knee, and shifted her position so she was sitting comfortably on the ground, her legs tucked to one side. Blood ran off her arms and hands into the gurgling stream before her, turning the water red briefly before the vivid color faded away, diluted by the otherwise clean water. The coolness of it soothed her heated skin, calming her emotionally as well as physically.

Healing Murtagh hadn't taken as much of a toll on her as Ariana had expected. Thorn had insisted on and channeled his energy through her, but he hadn't pried into her mind. He had just made sure that she didn't need to dip into her own reserves. A particularly stubborn scab of Murtagh's blood on the inside of her elbow refused to wash away, and Ariana grimaced as she rubbed harder with the heel of her left hand, trying to dislodge the maroon, textured stain. Years of doing this had desensitized her enough that she didn't feel sickened by the feel of blood on her skin, but the disgust of having something warm and sticky on what should be your smooth skin, smelling that metallic odor that stays in the nose even after the source is gone…that could never be shaken. Just distilled, like mulled wine mixed with water. Diluted, but not completely transformed.

And his wounds, even by her toughened standards, had been serious, bordering revolting. Blood everywhere, black blood clots, bones showing through in places where the gashes were especially deep…Ariana had wanted to wash him afterwards, to rid him of the blood, but she wasn't sure how he would react when awake. He could clean the blood off himself.

Her dagger gleamed in the sunlight, speckled with reddish drops of the water she had shaken from her. Before leaving the Rider's prone form to find the stream that Thorn had told her of, directing her with a jumble of bright, confused images, Ariana had scooped up the weapon, feeling marginally safer now that it was with her. But knowing that a fully grown, battle-hardened dragon was near her was terrifying. Her puny little knife would be no use against those hard scales, his fangs, the cruelly curved and sharp claws.

Ariana rolled her eyes at herself. If Thorn had wanted to harm her, he would have done so long ago, as soon as she had finished healing the young man. The handsome young man. Groaning out loud, Ariana stood languidly, enjoying the serenity of this stream in the woods. But as soon as she found Eldrvarya and changed into the clothes she had brought with her, she was leaving the dress behind. The memories it carried were too painful to be soothed by the gown's beauty.

Back to Murtagh. Perching on a large rock near the stream, slipping off her shoes and dipping her toes in the rushing liquid, Ariana leaned forward slightly, thinking. It didn't take a genius to realize that she was attracted to Murtagh. Which girl wouldn't be? His finely shaped lips, narrow face and chin, strong brows, and straight, thin nose made for a handsome, well-defined face. She didn't know the color of his eyes, but she doubted it would make a difference to her. And while healing him, she had noticed his body, his physicality.

He was lean and tall, his muscles well defined, hard. Ariana had been careful to keep herself from thinking of him while healing him because Thorn was connected to her mind, but even then she was sure he had sensed or seen her blush, felt the warmth the unconscious man was evoking in her. Murtagh's dark hair was soft, the locks that fell to frame his face slightly overgrown, just slightly. Attractively.

Mentally, Ariana had compared him to Orrin, and decided that Murtagh had a more decisive shape to him, more in control. Manlier? But Orrin…she could not deny that a part of her still loved him, loved him desperately. Never wanted to have left him. But he had walked away first, and left her no choice.

But she shivered as a breeze blew across her bare back, and Ariana remembered all those rumors about Murtagh. Morzan's son, a practiced murderer…but was she any better? The answer hurt.

Birds chirped in the trees above her, and Ariana gripped the skirt of her dress, lifting it to her knees and stepping into the stream, watching the water swirl around her legs, feeling it trying to pull her into the current. What if she could become one with the flow, losing her own troubles in that steady, constant motion?

A loud scream jerked her from the moment, and Ariana instantly bent her body into a defensive crouch, her skirt falling into the stream with a soft splash as she released the material, clutching her dagger tightly. But the woods around her were still. Another scream – definitely a man's. Had she missed something when healing Murtagh? Was he dying?

Not bothering to maneuver back into those stupid torture devices known as shoes, Ariana raced through the trees, lifting the hem of her dress with one hand to keep from tripping on it, wincing as stray branches and brambles cut her arms and face. But what she saw was nothing she had expected.

She stopped dead.

Murtagh was standing, his hair and body bloodstained, his face blank. Thorn was nowhere in sight. But the shocking part was that there was a man kneeling before him, on whose head Murtagh was resting his palm, frowning slightly. A hint of expression. The screams were coming from the man on the ground, who was shaking but not moving, almost as if he were unable to. Ariana's eyes narrowed, zooming over the multiple injuries on his body, and it took her barely a moment to realize that whatever happened, this man wasn't going to make it. He was in pain, but death was clinging to him like his own shadow.

Another agonized howl of pain, and Ariana gasped as she figured it out. Murtagh was either in the man's mind or trying to break it. And he wasn't being gentle about it either. But the screams continued, and she snapped into action, unable to handle the memories that were clamoring for her attention. Rotating her dagger slightly in her palm, Ariana tensed her arm and, in a smooth, practiced motion, hurled it. With a soft thump, it buried itself up to the hilt in between the man's shoulder blades.

Silence.

"Why did you do that?" Murtagh's voice, low but not a baritone, caused goosebumps to erupt all over her skin. She liked it. What she didn't like was the furious yet barely controlled tone.

"He was in pain," Ariana said calmly, horribly aware that she had just lost her weapon in the corpse. If she had to defend herself now, it would be with magic – but he was a Rider. She had as much of a chance as a lizard against a dragon. Maybe less. At least the lizard would be able to hide.

"I needed something from him," Murtagh hissed, his body tensing. For a fight.

"Needed what?" Ariana snapped. "He was dying, you didn't have to torture him too! I thought all of them were dead anyway, or I would have tried to –"

"Thorn left one alive for me," he growled, advancing a few steps towards her, "And even if you had healed him, I would have had to hunt him down and kill him." Murtagh eyes widened momentarily, and then he narrowed them like a cat eyeing its prey. "Who are you?"

Ariana scowled at him. He actually had the nerve to look at her like she was weak! Fool. "Ariana."

Murtagh looked like he was mentally roaring at her. But all he did was let a soft hiss escape him. "I meant what! You can use magic, are you an elf? Why did you help me?"

She considered not telling him, but after all, he did have the right to know, since she knew who he was. "I'm half. One of my parents was an elf, the other was human. And I helped you because you were dying!"

He raised one eyebrow smoothly. "Which was which? And who?"

Bristling, Ariana imagined that her hackles were rising. It was absolutely none of his business – and besides, she didn't even know. "I don't know. I never really knew either of them."

Murtagh opened his mouth and suddenly froze, his eyes flicking upwards before settling on a spot above her head, his face blanking again. Glancing up, Ariana saw a red shape circling in the skies above. Thorn. Great. Now the two of them were discussing her.

"Thorn wants to talk to you," Murtagh said curtly. "He's asking if you'll let him in."

Hesitating, Ariana nodded.

Within moments, she felt a vast presence pressing against her mind. Fighting the urge to hide from it, she lowered her mental walls, slowly.

_Who are you? _Thorn's musical voice asked her. But unlike Murtagh, he was gentle, not probing.

Ariana bit her lip, thinking, and a sigh reverberated through their mental connection.

_You're not sure, _Thorn mused, thinking out loud. _But you weren't lying to him. _Concern emanated from him, and Ariana froze. She had just flashed back to one of her worst memories – and she was pretty sure Thorn had seen it.

_What was that? _He asked sharply, his attention caught.

_Nothing._ Sighing, Ariana switched to the ancient language. _I mean you no harm, but my secrets are my own._

Thorn was silent, but she sensed him at the fringes of her consciousness, testing her emotions. A flicker of fear inside her, like a candle raising its flame in a rainstorm. He was good at judging others, she could tell. Too good. Would he figure her out?

Thorn sighed again, and she felt as if her entire body were vibrating. _You'll have to forgive Murtagh. He didn't mean to offend you, he just needed to be sure. Murtagh and I…we have been through too much to trust people without knowing if we can or not. _

_ I understand_, Ariana said quietly to him. Something told her to trust Thorn. And if she could trust the dragon, why not his Rider?

_You can trust him, _Thorn replied, chuckling as Ariana groaned. The sound was like mountains laughing.

The dragon withdrew from her mind, and Ariana looked at Murtagh, whose head was bent. A minute or two later, he looked up. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Ariana shook her head. "It's alright. I would've done the same. Being Morzan's son can't have made for trust." She hadn't been able to resist that last jab at his treatment of her, but regretted it when he openly flinched. "Sorry."

"I deserved it." Murtagh stepped closer, and Ariana felt her pulse begin to respond as he stopped about a foot away from her. He held out a hand.

Eyeing it, unable to completely quash the suspicion that he was trying to trick her, Ariana grasped it for a moment, then let go. They stared at each other.

"Listen," Ariana said slowly, trying to hide her irritation, "I don't want to talk about the past, okay? I'm half elf, half human, I can use magic, and I can fight. That's all you need to know, really."

Murtagh nodded. "I –" He froze.

Ariana straightened her back, staring into the trees around them. She had heard it too. Something like footsteps, a twig snapping underfoot, leaves rustling as someone walked by or through them.

Without speaking, she and Murtagh had backed up so that they were standing back to back, facing opposite directions. Something cold slipped into her palm, and Ariana realized that Murtagh was passing her another dagger, this one slightly longer than her own, the blade curved but dangerously sharp. Silently, he drew his sword, and she watched it glinting blood red in the light, mesmerized by the rubies and gems dotting it.

Something moved again, this time behind her, in Murtagh's sights. Despite herself, Ariana was glad he had her back. It was just nice to have someone fighting with you instead of trying to kill you all the time.

Something barreled into her mind, but Ariana relaxed when she recognized Thorn. _There are ten of them, and they can use magic_, Thorn announced. _Shall I take care of them? It won't even take a minute._

_ No_, Murtagh said firmly. _We can handle it. Stay high. _

Thorn snorted mentally. _Fine. Be safe, little one. And you, Ariana. _

Be safe. When was the last time anyone had said that to her, and actually meant it? Maybe never. Warmth was spreading through her, and for a moment Ariana forgot that her life was in danger. Big mistake.

An arrow buried itself in her shoulder and she cried out in pain, stumbling back against Murtagh with the impact, cursing her stupidity as blood ran over her bare shoulder, seeping into her thin dress. If they had bows, what use was her dagger?

_I should have put up wards_, she realized belatedly. Steeling herself, she banished the pain from her mind, focusing on the hooded figures emerging eerily, silently, from the trees into the morning sun.

Blades were clashing behind her, and Ariana decided to go for the element of surprise…or whatever was left of it. Pulling the arrow out from her shoulder would cause her too much pain and take entirely too long, so she let it be. She'd fought with worse injuries…right? Aiming for the figure nearest her, Ariana leaped towards him – or her – and winced when her elbow collided with what was unmistakably a ward. But as she stumbled Ariana swung out her right arm to steady herself, and watched in shock as the dagger Murtagh had given her sliced through the wards and buried itself in her assailant's chest. Blood spurted everywhere, but she yanked the knife back out, whirling to face the others.

Screams rang in the air, and Murtagh shouted something in the ancient language. Two of the figures around her darted away to join the other fight, and Ariana settled into a defensive posture, batting away a sword with her forearm and trying to get past another with her dagger, at the same time ducking as an arrow whizzed past her head.

Raising her hand and summoning the magic, Ariana prepared to cast a spell when with a loud whinny, Eldrvarya burst through the trees. An arrow pierced his neck seconds later and he collapsed, bleeding out onto the ground.

"No!" Throwing caution to the wind, Ariana kicked the nearest hooded figure hard in the stomach and dashed to the horse's side. But it was clear he was dead. Moving fast, she reached into one of the saddlebags and grasped the handle of her sword, jerking it free. Just in time. Reaching upward, she used the hilt to block another blade from crashing down onto her neck, and hurled Murtagh's dagger into the folds of the robe. The figure cried out and collapsed, and she turned to face the other two but only had time to gasp before she flew through the air, crashing hard into a tree and collapsing at its base.

Pain made stars dance before her eyes, some winking out as she tried desperately to clear her vision. Though the world was spinning around her, Ariana's heart sank as she failed to discern Murtagh's form behind the two forms looming over her. She was going to die…at eighteen…

A loud crack rent the air, and pain exploded in her midriff as one of their boots connected with her ribs. Struggling to breath, biting her lip and drawing blood in an effort to keep from screaming, Ariana guessed that multiple ribs had just broken. Breathing hurt, hurt horribly. Hopefully her lungs hadn't been punctured.

"You thought we forgot about you, didn't you?" A man's voice said from up above her. Ariana squeezed her eyes shut tight, focusing on controlling the pain, easing her breathing. It wasn't working. "You thought we'd let you loose, let you out of our sight. You thought wrong, didn't you?"

Maniac laughter. The man was insane, Ariana thought, before a cold, clammy hand gripped her face, while the wild cackles continued. The second person.

"She's pretty, in a strange way, don't you think? We should fix that." Definitely female. But the hands were hard, calloused. Something cold pressed against Ariana's cheek, and she shuddered. Even without her broken ribs clouding her mind, the agony intense, she would have recognized the feel of a knife.

A moan of pain escaped her lips as the cold blade pressed into her pulse point and then dragged in a jagged path down the side of her neck, slicing roughly into the skin. That blade was anything but sharp – and blunt knives _hurt_. The blade dug in deeper, and Ariana screamed, her entire body shaking, whimpering as the blade was pulled back. The two above her were both laughing, and the cruelty of their amusement scared her more than anything.

"Smell that?" The woman leaned down to whisper in Ariana's ear, and she shook under a wave of nausea as the metallic smell of her own blood pressed damply against her nostrils. She could feel it trickling down her body, soaking her. This was it. "It's the scent of your own death, sweetheart. Enjoy it. You only die once."

They shoved her roughly onto her back, and Ariana howled as excruciating pain clawed at her insides, her damaged ribs shrieking their protests. But her screams had barely died down, the pain settling into a sharp burn, when she felt the knife just below her breasts. The woman began carving random patterns into Ariana's midriff, taking advantage of the soft, unprotected flesh, slicing especially deep in her waist, and Ariana screamed enough to wake the dead, struggling to break free. The world was spinning, acute agony the only thing that existent in it. Her skin was bubbling where the knife pierced it – when her eyes fell upon it, Ariana nearly fainted. But she didn't, and no matter how hard she fought to lose consciousness, she couldn't.

Awful, choked screams and sobs tore themselves from her throat, and Ariana's throat burned from the strain. She couldn't help thrashing, which only aggravated her broken ribs. Through the muddle of pain, Ariana tried to concentrate enough to summon her magic, to blow her tormentors to pieces, but every time she came close the knife stabbed deeper into her, and she lost everything in the roiling sea of torture.

Breathing was a hopeless struggle, her lungs unable to expand enough in her shattered chest cavity. Ariana coughed during a brief respite, felt the warm, salty blood coating her lips. But another cough, harder than the previous one, triggered another eruption of pain, and everything suddenly went black.

Cold.

That was the one thought Ariana could muster before she sank into the warm, dark depths of unconsciousness again, too quickly to even register the pain she was in, although she could feel it beating against the shore of her consciousness.

She was floating, as if on her back in a lake, letting the water take her weight, support what she couldn't, letting the current take her, as she had wanted to do in the forest those hours ago – or was it days? Ariana struggled to remember her own name, clung to it, tried to piece herself together. The pain was significantly less, but when she tried to open her eyes it was as if she lost her grip on a sodden, moss-covered rock. She slipped into oblivion again.

Light filtered in through her lashes, which slowly fluttered open. Hesitantly, she took a breath, and upon discovering that the pain was slight, sucked in air greedily, loving the sweetness, the way it dissolved against her tongue. As if she could taste it, mull it over in her mouth.

A beautiful pair of silver eyes watched her, gazing into hers, the light making them glimmer. Her heart skipped a beat.

"How do you feel?" A wonderfully low voice, emotional yet controlled, washed over her.

"Murtagh?" She hated her voice just then – so high and breathless. She was eighteen, not some lovestruck twelve-year-old!

"Yeah," he said, shifting to move closer. "Can you sit up?"

Carefully, he placed his large, warm hands on her upper and lower back, helping her sit up. Ariana blinked, trying to distract herself from the heat emanating from his touch, spiraling through her body from the points of contact. She was in a cave with a small mouth, bright light coming in. She could see a blue sky through the opening. The stone was a light brown; a fire crackled in a farther corner. Bloodstained saddlebags rested in another corner, and a stash of unfamiliar weapons lay near the fire.

Tears stung her eyes as she looked at the saddlebags. Her horse, her poor, brave horse, had died trying to defend her. She knew that was why he had come. Ariana drew in a shaky breath, searching for something to divert her thoughts. Her attention returned to herself.

She remembered being cold, but now she was comfortably warm, cocooned in something heavy and soft. Lowering her eyes, she saw a thick forest green cloak tucked around her, the hood drawn up to cover her hair. Her hand drifted upwards, beneath the material. Her hair was damp, and now she felt a cold droplet of water trickle down her neck under the cloak.

A moment's panic assailed her, but it was soon assuaged. She could feel the thin satin of her dress still under the cloak, but she was loath to remove the warm green covering. Who knew how much of her dress remained? And anyway, warmth was seeping from the cloak into her body, and she wasn't going to forgo that.

A comforting scent rose up to her as she snuggled into the cloak, curling up comfortably beneath it, noting that it had been tucked completely around her. Even her legs weren't touching the stone of the cave. For a few moments she racked her brain to identify the smell, and then she realized that it was the way the earth smelled after a rain. Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply, listening to the crackle of the fire, letting both soothe her, shutting out her memories of pain and blood. Did Murtagh smell this way too, or was it just his cloak?

Murtagh had moved away, crouching down beside unfamiliar, large saddlebags – probably Thorn's. For a moment Ariana indulged herself; her eyes roved over his taut, tall form, the broad shoulders, small waist…A sneeze shook her from all that.

"Here." Murtagh returned to her, holding out a wineskin. "Spiced mead. You'll feel better."

Carefully, trying to keep the cloak from falling away from her skin and allowing the cold air to attack her form, Ariana reached out for the wineskin. But she couldn't make a fist. Her hand shook, her fingers were unable to tighten enough to grip it firmly. Dismay welled up in her, and Ariana pressed her lips together, trying not to cry, to quell the fear. Was she permanently damaged? Had they cut nerves in her wrists, torn tendons that a Rider had not been able to repair? She had no doubt he had healed her – without a powerful healing, she would definitely have died.

"You'll be okay," Murtagh said quietly, still watching her. "Your body is adjusting. I healed you as best as I could, but you were so close…You need to get used to the magic I poured into your system. It'll filter out slowly, but I think it was too much for you. I had to draw on Thorn to heal you, and you aren't used to such a large influx of energy." He paused. "I'll help you."

Coming to kneel before her, Murtagh held the wineskin to her lips, tilting it slightly to allow the mead into her mouth. He was right, Ariana realized. It tasted divine, and almost immediately she felt better, stronger. And her head cleared.

Murtagh squatted down before her, his face serious. "Who are you?"

She sighed. "We've been through –"

"That was before we were both attacked by people trying to kill you."

Ariana stared at him. "They were sent for me? How do you know? Are you sure? By whom?"

He knit his eyebrows together. "When those two attacked you, I wasn't there, remember? Three of them had run off, and I had to go hunt them down. But I broke their minds before I killed them, which is partially why it took me a while to find you. I couldn't find out much – I, ah, _damaged_ them a bit in the process – but they were definitely sent for you. You need to be honest with me. Who are you?"

Her face set, Ariana glared at him, suspecting that her tiredness may have stolen some of the fire from her usually scathing glare. "It doesn't matter. I'll just leave now. You don't have to worry about it. I'll deal with them."

Murtagh huffed. "It's not that simple."

"Yes, it is!" she exclaimed. "We barely even know each other! I should get going, and so should you!"

"Thorn refuses to leave you," Murtagh muttered, running his hands through his wavy, barely overgrown black hair. "He says that we both owe you for saving me, and won't leave here unless we take you. He thinks that you're going to need our help if trained magicians are coming after you."

"I don't need your help," Ariana snapped, her pride stung. But internally, she began to wonder if Thorn was right. Those two had overpowered her too easily. Maybe she had just let her guard down for a moment, but the fact remained that she had made a mistake. And she never made mistakes. But it hurt a little that Murtagh had wanted to leave her – hadn't he admitted that he was still here only because of Thorn? Even though they didn't know each other, she had saved his life! Shouldn't he want to make sure she was alright too? Apparently he didn't care.

"He says you're staying with us," Murtagh replied softly, his voice tinged with faint amusement, "And arguing with a dragon is a very bad idea." He leaned forward, his eyes now a steely gray, his gaze intense. "I'm going to ask you again. Who are you?"

**A/N: REVIEW. PLEEEASE? The button is just below and it only takes a minute to put a smile on my overworked and insanely stressed face :D **

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	3. Please Don't Leave Me

**A/N: So here is the next chapter! Named after Please Don't Leave Me, by P!nk. Just for fun. I hope you like it, and THANK YOU everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, and all that good stuff last chapter. This one is for you guys. If you are reading, please drop me a review! It only takes a minute to make any author really happy. Again, thank you sooo much, and I hope you enjoy the next installment! **

Chapter 3: Please Don't Leave Me

Shivering as another drop of water slid from her hair to her neck, Ariana returned his gaze. "Why am I wet?" _What _exactly _did you do while healing me? _

He paused, watching her, as if deciding something. "I healed whatever I could see," Murtagh said slowly. Ariana didn't miss the faint color in his cheeks, or the way his eyes momentarily flicked away from hers. "But you were covered in blood – I think you passed out a bit before I got there. I don't even know how you survived – the blade was coated with Seithr oil." He eyed her appraisingly, respect flashing momentarily in his eyes. "Thorn insisted on us moving at least a bit away before I healed you, because he didn't want you to be killed if we were attacked again, but I just held you in the stream for a few minutes first to get the blood off. I didn't – you know –" He actually blushed, and Ariana smiled.

"Thank you," she whispered, feeling her own cheeks suffuse with heat. Cupping her hands, she leaned forward. "Brisingr." Flames of a deep midnight blue, the same as her eyes, burst into life in her palms. Throwing her head back, letting the hood fall off her hair, she combed her fingers through it, savoring the heat. When her hair was dry, she let the flames die away.

"Eragon's magic was the same color," Murtagh observed.

She shrugged. "What's yours?" The answer came to her nearly instantly, as an image of Thorn's beautiful ruby scales flashed into her mind. "Red?"

He nodded.

Drawing his cloak tighter around herself, Ariana took a deep breath. "So…your question." She eyed him nervously. "I – if I'm honest with you, you need to be with me too. I haven't told anyone – can you just not –"

A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. "Who am I going to tell? Well besides Thorn, who'll find out anyway?"

He had a point. But her heart had begun to flutter like a frightened rabbit's. Could she trust him? Would he even trust her after she told him? _He'll leave you here and go_, she told herself, wavering. It shouldn't matter, really. She had told him to leave just minutes ago. But she didn't want to be abandoned anymore.

He was still quiet, waiting for her to begin, not pushing her. Was that sympathy in his eyes? Or fear? He was nearly impossible to read, and Ariana was normally good at detecting and identifying emotions in others. But she was at least grateful that he wasn't probing now, although he had demanded that she reveal the darkest part of herself. Well, that would be all of herself in that case.

"I was five," Ariana whispered, staring at the ground. "Just five. They came for me in the middle of the night. It's one of my first clear memories. I never really got to see my father after that, and my mother…I don't think I ever met her. I don't remember. I always tried to see his ears, to figure out if he was an elf, but his hair always hid them.

"They took me because I could use magic, and Galbatorix wanted everyone who could under his control. I was kept at Urû'baen – Ilirea now." Murtagh made a small movement, but then stilled himself, nodding at her to continue.

"I had a small room, a nurse to take care of me until I didn't need her anymore. But they – they started to train me." She sniffed, taking a few deep breaths. "I learned to use my magic, to control it. Initially I had fun, using my talents in more ways than I could think of. But then they found a use for me.

"I was given a private trainer, because I had elvish blood in me and that made my magic more potent than that of regular magicians. When I was ten they started me on weapons – and I was good at it. Too good. The moment I had learned everything they wanted me to know, they had my mentor killed – I was glad they did. He was vicious." Memories of blood swam before her eyes, and her skin itched with the remembrance of pain before she batted it away. "My first assignment was when I was thirteen, on my birthday." She became suddenly conscious that she was speaking in a monotone, her voice expressionless. She didn't want to feel anymore. Didn't want to see his disgust either.

"I didn't want to do it. I told them no, there was no way I would go out there and murder people Galbatorix didn't like. They…didn't like that very much." Even though it was warm inside the cloak, Ariana shivered at the memories. "They tortured me until I agreed…I still have the scars. I did that for years, killed so many people. I still have nightmares about it, I still feel their blood on my hands, see their expressions when they know they're about to die. I can't forgive myself for it. I shouldn't have ever agreed to do it." She swalled. "But when the Varden became a serious threat to the Empire, they sent me out to fight. I covered my tracks and ran. I went to Surda, but I had to leave because…" She choked on the words, not wanting to tell him. Besides, what if the rumors were true and he did love Nasuada? It would hurt him too.

"Why?" Murtagh sounded hoarse, and she saw sympathy and pity flashing in his beautiful silver eyes before he buried the emotion.

Ariana looked up at him, tears swimming in her eyes. "Are you sure you want to know?"

He nodded, looking pained.

"Do you know Orrin? King of Surda?" When he nodded, she plowed on. "I – we were engaged. He'd asked me to marry him a few days ago, and we were going to make it official last night – the same night I found you. But before the ceremony, I heard voices in one of the rooms that should have been empty, and when I looked in I saw him and Nasuada kissing on the bed." Drawing in a gasping breath, she began to cry, seeing the tears falling onto her lap, staining his cloak.

"Are you sure?" His voice sounded so strained that Ariana didn't have to look up to know his expression would be tortured. He did love Nasuada. And somehow, even though she had only barely met him, that stung.

"Yes," she said, her voice quaking, saturated with tears that wouldn't stop. "I saw her skin, and her face. I've seen her before."

It was quiet, save for the sound of her tears.

Murtagh took a loud, deep breath. His voice, when he began to speak, was what hers had been – a flat, unmoving monotone, devoid of emotion. He told her of his childhood, how Morzan had lain his back open when he was only three, of the scar that now laced his back. He spoke of the years he had spent living at Urû'baen – like her, Ariana realized with a start – how he had first met Galbatorix, how he had escaped, how he had been recaptured and forced to serve the evil king when he had been unable to bear Thorn's torture, although the dragon had refused to give in, even as a tiny hatchling.

His voice changed then. There was a tremor in it. Slowly, haltingly, he told her of how he had been sent out to capture Nasuada, how she had been tortured and he had done everything he could do save her, risked his life in an attempt to be able to free her. How he had loved her since the first time she visited him in Tronjheim. "But I couldn't stay with her after we defeated Galbatorix," he breathed, sounding utterly broken. "Thorn and I – we felt so much pure rage, so much hate at the world and what it had done to us. Especially me. Thorn has not had to experience so much of what I had, but he was angry for me. I couldn't stay. I've been gone three years…I can't say I didn't have a feeling something like this would happen…"

He took a rattling breath, clenching a fist atop his raised knee. Ariana watched the muscles bunch up and tense under the skin of his forearms, exposed by the rolled up sleeves of his tunic, through her tears.

And though she hated crying, she drew her knees up to her chest, buried her face in his warm cloak, and wept for them both, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed silently, releasing all the emotion she had carried for so long. Wishing that her love for Orrin and her hurt over what he had done would flow out of her with her tears. But she could still feel him hooked to her heart.

When she finally looked up, feeling shaky and completed drained from all the crying, her eyes fell upon an empty cave. She sat up straighter. A quick glance at the mouth of the cave told her that the sun was setting – the light was warmer but dimmer. Her legs trembled as she stood, and when Ariana took a step forward, she stumbled over the cloak. It trailed on the ground after her as she walked carefully to the entrance, not wanting to trip over its hem.

Bending down, she snagged her sword from the pile of her saddlebags, ducking out of the cave with the weapon clutched firmly in her hand. There was grass outside the cave, flattened in certain places – probably where his feet had landed. Following the crushed grass, Ariana found herself walking into thick woods, where the waning sunlight barely filtered between dense leafy treetops. But her keen eyes quickly adjusted to the growing darkness.

A loud splash sounded from before her, and Ariana broke into a run, lifting up the cloak and the dress below it as she scurried barefoot between the trees. She wasn't sure how long she ran, but her lungs had just begun to burn – and she had the abilities of an elf, not a human – when the trees began thinning out. Déjà vu began to pound against her brain, as images of a bloody and nearly dead Murtagh surrounded by corpses and sheltered by a huge red dragon assaulted her. She pushed them away. The presence of a stream didn't mean that the forest or the events were the same. Although she was pretty sure they were still in the Beor mountains.

As she left the trees behind her she found herself standing by the banks of a narrow river. Ariana looked immediately to her right, and saw no one. But on her left, a fair distance away, she saw a straight, tall form garbed in black. Murtagh.

As she moved towards him, her tread silent, Murtagh reared back and hurled a ball of red flames into the river, creating another earsplitting splash. The water hissed, frothed, and steamed as the fire continued to burn inside it, until he released the magic and the water ceased writhing around the imploding red sphere.

His chest was heaving, and he was dripping. The water must have splashed him as the fire landed in it, but for a moment her eyes roved appreciatively over his figure, caught by the way his sodden tunic clung to his abdominal and chest muscles. He really was well-defined, and she suddenly remembered the way his muscles felt under her skin while she healed him. And then, the unavoidable wondering whether he had touched her the same way hit her, and Ariana found herself blushing as she approached him, unable to decide whether the thought disgusted or pleased her.

Murtagh hadn't noticed her; without warning, he raised his arm and hurled another ball of flames, this time into a tree on the other side of the river.

"What are you doing?" Ariana cried as the tree burst into flames.

Growling deep in his chest, not even seeming to hear her, Murtagh bared his teeth in a feral snarl and hurled another fireball into the same tree, from which flaming branches were already falling, the fire spreading.

He stumbled back, his face slick with sweat, his head bowed.

"Adurna," Ariana whispered, drawing on her own magic, reaching out to the water in the river before her. By her command, it snaked over to the trees and grass, quenching the flames before seeping back into the river bed.

He was gasping for air, veins cording his arms and tendons standing out in his neck.

"Are you okay?" Ariana warily stepped closer to him, watching a droplet of water slide down a lock of his wet hair and drip onto his shoulder, slipping lazily over his clavicle.

He didn't respond, just kept his head bowed, breathing heavily. Behind them the river gurgled, but the sound to her seemed melancholy, lonely. Like the roar of the ocean; the unceasing, despairing call of a broken soul to a lost lover.

Unthinkingly, she put her hands on his shoulders, gripping him tightly. "Murtagh. Look at me." Her voice was soft, coaxing.

Murtagh's silver eyes, like thunderclouds on a rainy afternoon, peeked at her through long black lashes. He looked exhausted. Tired. But his eyes held no traces of tears. They just looked shattered.

Opening her mouth, Ariana realized that there was nothing she could say to lessen his pain, or hers. But what she did realize was that they had both been hurt the same way, were feeling the same pain.

On a sudden impulse, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his chest, tightening her grip on him slowly. Murtagh felt like a straight board of hard wood in her arms, but Ariana held on to him, and gradually she felt him relax.

Softly, Murtagh rested his warm hands on her waist, bending gingerly towards her. Ariana stifled a smile and pushed her face into his chest, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply. The scent of a rain-soaked earth suffused her, and she allowed herself a smile, hidden by his body. He smelled _divine_. He had good taste in scents, she decided. It was an elvish custom for the elves to choose a smell and sing it into their skin – she had done it on her eighteenth birthday, as her own private celebration. It had never occurred to her that Murtagh would have learned of the custom, under Galbatorix's command as he was. He was just full of surprises.

And another surprise hit her. Murtagh's arms folded around her and drew her closer, and in a few moments she felt him bend over her, dropping his face into her hair, practically nuzzling her. She could feel his breath coming in heated, soft puffs at the base of her neck.

Ariana was shocked. He was the king of control, he barely knew her, and he was holding her so tightly – intimately, she corrected. The embrace was intimate, and she loved it. Heat spilled through her body, and as she burrowed herself further into him Murtagh tightened his grip, nearly bending her backwards as clutched her close.

For a few moments Ariana's mind sprang into overanalyzing mode. Was this his way of admitting that he was attracted to her the way she was to him? Or was Murtagh just seeking comfort in the one person he could find, especially because she was suffering the same? Did he expect her to try to kiss him? Should she? How would he react?

But Murtagh was still now, his grip so crushing it was nearly painful. She could feel him trembling, and carefully extricated her right arm, keeping her left wound around his chest. Her right arm snaked around his neck, her hand resting on it, applying slight pressure as she cradled his head. She desperately wanted to slide her fingers into his hair, but resisted the urge. Too soon for that.

Gingerly, Ariana let herself relax; let him hold her. It was nice to completely unload herself onto someone else, to let another person deal with her problems. Well, Murtagh wasn't doing that, but at least he was hugging her as if the world was crashing down around them. Which, in a sense, it was.

But she couldn't stay slumped against him for long. Murtagh's hands burned her waist and back where he was touching her, and she was beginning to grow conscious of the hard, chiseled muscles under her hands, pressing up against her. He was a young man and she was a girl, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. She was breathing quickly, hoping he wouldn't catch the sound of her panting. What was he _doing_ to her?

Something loud sounded in her ears, coming from down by her shoulder, and Ariana blinked in surprise. Murtagh's breath was coming in loud pants too, but his face was buried deep in the junction of her neck and shoulder. She could feel his lips against his skin and shivered involuntarily.

Against her, Murtagh stiffened. Her heart stopped.

In one swift movement, he stepped away from her. Ariana stumbled back, her body giving way into air as the support of his arms and body left her, and she found herself unbalanced. When she looked up again, Ariana watched his back disappear among the trees.

Her breaths were shallow, and she sank down onto the wet grass. _Fool_, she thought bitterly. What had she expected from him, anyway? A proclamation of love for a murderer, for a girl he had just met, who had no hope of competing with Nasuada in looks or character?

The stars just didn't like her, it seemed. The first time she fell in love, he had cheated on her on what should have been their _engagement _night! And maybe even before then. Who knows. Orrin had a tendency to want to be in control, something probably brought on by feeling severely outranked during the Varden's war with Galbatorix, what with him having to fight alongside elves and dwarves…and ultimately Nasuada became queen, instead of his gaining power. Ariana had sympathized with him, and still did, but he had broken her heart so cruelly…

Rubbing a blade of damp grass between her fingers, plucking it lightly from the ground, Ariana sighed. It was time she stopped letting Murtagh drive her crazy every time he looked at her.

Suddenly she stood, wanting to tear his cloak from her body, but conscious of the torn dress below it. Hesitating for a moment, Ariana broke into a swift walk, making it back to the cave in minutes. Stepping behind a broad tree, she peered around the trunk and saw Murtagh off to the side of the rock formation hiding the cave, shooting arrow after arrow into another tree.

Refusing to watch him, knowing she would soon begin to admire his movements, Ariana slipped quietly into the cave. Hoping he wouldn't walk in, she dropped his cloak to the ground and, shivering as cold air pressed against the copious amounts of skin exposed by her shredded dress, pulled out some of the extra clothes she had brought.

Stepping out of the dress, she pulled on leggings, a tunic with loose sleeves just past her elbows that fell mid-thigh, and boots that reached slightly below her kneecaps. Strapping her thin belt around her hips, Ariana attached her sword to it, hid a few knives on her, and pulled out her bow and quiver. She deposited the quiver diagonally over her abdomen, feeling the familiar weight of the strap on her body, and slung the bow over her shoulder.

Leaving the dress, cloak, and everything else behind, she leaned slightly out of the cave. Murtagh was still on the side, and she could hear the twang of his bow. Ariana shook her head. He needed to find less destructive ways to release tension. Creeping out of the cave, she took a few running steps to reach the shelter of the trees. Glancing up, she saw a sky painted over with the warm oranges and pinks of sunset, but no red shape circling above. Where was Thorn?

No matter, really. Ariana broke into a fast run, the trees blurring around her as she hurtled through them, leaping over the river Murtagh had held her by. But after a few more minutes, she settled into an easy loping run, moving rapidly but at a steady pace that she knew she could sustain for days.

Nightfall cloaked her as she bounded over rocks and between trees, thanking her small size that saved her from having to duck to avoid being hit in the face by low-hanging branches. Her thighs and calves burned, and her chest was heaving, but the motion kept her warm even though the temperature was falling fast. She knew that going too far north would lead her into ice and snow, but at the moment all she wanted was to put as much distance between herself and Murtagh as possible. She would change direction later if she needed to.

A loud thud vibrated in her ear, and Ariana instinctively dove to the side, huddling into a tight ball at the base of a tree and looking up. Something huge skimmed the treetops before veering upwards, letting the moonlight back in. Another thud, so powerful that the ground beneath her vibrated with the sound.

Gasping for air, flattening her body against the ground, thankful for the soft light green tunic, black leggings, and brown boots that helped her blend in, along with the darkness of the night, Ariana searched the sky – or what she could see of it – with her eyes. A massive bulk glided past the trees again, and Ariana whimpered involuntarily, her lips slightly parted in shock. Nothing else had a bulk that immense – and the moonlight had glinted off of scales a distinctive ruby red.

Thorn was above her.

Closing her eyes, Ariana took a moment to ensure that her mental walls were secure – although if Thorn wanted to break in, he could. Her only hope was that he didn't know she was there – but she doubted that. Taking in a soft breath through her teeth, hoping his ears weren't sensitive enough to hear her, Ariana rose silently into a crouch. The instant she saw the edge of his wing tip away from her, watched him soar upwards, she broke into a run.

Within moments, Ariana knew she had made a colossal, unforgivable mistake. She should have stayed where she was, and stayed quiet. But she had made herself into an obvious target.

She could hear footfalls behind her, falling fast against the ground, coming up behind her with the fiendish speed only elves – and Riders, and she – possessed. Tensing her body, Ariana sped up, flying over the ground, her hair streaming out behind her, loose in the slipstream of her body.

But even though she was moving so fast that her body was protesting with cramps, Ariana couldn't lose those steady feet behind her. For fear of crashing into a tree or tripping over an extended root, she couldn't look back to see how far behind her he was. But she knew he was there.

Veering sharply to her left, Ariana hurdled a large rock in her path and dashed between to trees, barely able to breathe. She wasn't sure how much longer she could go this fast – such speed was beyond even her formidable endurance. How on earth was Murtagh keeping up?

Another thud above her – the sound must have been created by the dragon's wings flapping, she realized – and Ariana nearly sobbed out loud from the anger, fear, disappointment, and physical pain. She wasn't going to make it. Even if she lost Murtagh, Thorn would track her. Why couldn't they just let her be?

Murtagh was gaining on her now, but Ariana's limbs were trembling with the effort to keep running. She could hear him coming closer. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, Ariana's fingers fumbled with the belt she wore, and she freed her sword from it.

Leaping ahead, putting a small extra distance between them, she whirled around, her sword readied for a fight, her chin raised, a trickle of sweat running down the side of her neck. Murtagh slowed to a halt, eyeing her blade warily but refusing to draw his own. _Coward_.

"Leave," Ariana ordered, panting slightly from the run. Elves really had marvelous lungpower – and because of them, so did she. More than anything, she wanted to sink down to the ground and cry herself dry, but she kept herself steady. She would not be coerced into staying with him again. Once was enough.

"We're being followed," Murtagh said calmly, his arms folded across his chest. "Thorn found them. These people won't let us go – I don't know if they're searching for you or me. We need to leave here."

She shook her head. "You need to leave. I won't."

"We've been through this, Thorn won't leave you and neither will I!"

Ariana froze him with an icy glare. She imagined icicles hanging from her words as they slipped in a faux-sweet voice from her lips. "Then stay here. But I won't stay with you."

Without warning, a mental probe smashed against her mind, and Ariana stumbled back with a cry. But it wasn't Murtagh – it was Thorn.

_Ariana_, he began.

_Leave._

_ Ariana_, he said again, _Please. Murtagh – he doesn't understand because he doesn't want to. But I want to talk to you, and even though he acts like he doesn't, he wants you to stay too. We both owe you a life debt, child. Let us take care of you now. _

_There is _nothing _you need to protect me from. And nothing you can. _

_ I broke the minds of the men pursuing you, without letting them discover who I was_, Thorn said, bloodlust seeping through their mental connection, paralyzing her with fear before he quashed it. _I discovered some rather…interesting things. _

_ Why didn't you just kill them on the spot? _

Thorn didn't reply, and Ariana sensed a strange reluctance from him. And then she figured it out: he was baiting her. And her curiosity was too strong for her not to take it. What had Thorn found out? Whatever it was, it had better be worth it. Or there would be hell to pay.

She scowled. _Fine. I'm staying. But only for one more day. _

_ We'll see. _Thorn prepared to leave her mind; she could feel it. _And, little one. Thank you. _

He left her, and Ariana rubbed her arms, fighting off her body's sudden reaction to the freezing temperatures. But she couldn't deny that Thorn's epithet for her – _little one_, something she knew he reserved for Murtagh – had warmed her. Someone, at least, cared about her. Truth be told, she had wanted Murtagh to beg her to stay, but even if he wouldn't bend his pride, or just didn't care, at least his dragon would. Ariana knew it was selfish, but she needed, lately more than ever, the reassurance that someone cared. It would be even nicer to be loved, but that was more than she could hope for.

And Thorn's bulk swooping overhead blurred before her eyes as they filled with tears.

**Reviews, pweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze?**

**Story Recommendations for today: **

**Secrets and Lies by PJOHPHGLOVE **

**Assassin: Forget by sapphiques-and-angelfire**

**The Big Three Daughters: Pokemonchen**

**Someone to Watch Over Me – ArthursCamelot**

**All of these are GREAT stories, all for different series, some of which I have read and one which I haven't, but that doesn't matter. If you have extra time, please check them out! There are more suggestions on my favorites page, but PLEASE check the rating before reading. **


	4. Starlight

**A/N: I hope you guys haven't gotten tired of reading the thank-yous, but THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed last chapter! I got this one out especially for you – otherwise it would have taken longer. But your awesomeness inspired me. The song's chapter comes from Taylor Swift's Starlight – the song itself has little/nothing to do with it, but it's a good song, and stars are involved here. You'll see what I mean when you read :D**

**So thank you for reading! **

Chapter 4: Starlight

"Let's get out of here," Murtagh said, and Ariana's blurred eyes saw his head tilt back as he called to his dragon. Envy rose up in her like a bird taking flight, its dark wings obscuring the rest of the world. Why was that it even Morzan's son had a partner, someone who knew his light and darkness and loved him for both? Why was only she alone?

Ariana growled low in her throat, angry with herself. She had accepted her loneliness years ago, knowing that no one else would be able to cope with the nightmares that woke her every night, the memories of pain – causing and feeling it – that caused her skin to itch every few moments. She was better off alone. Even Orrin, who had loved her – or lusted after her, she wasn't sure – had known little of her past besides that she had been forced into serving the Empire against her will. She had shied away from even real kisses, except for one or two he had taken from her when she hadn't realized what he was looking for. A bitter smile twisted her mouth as she remembered lashing out at him, furious. The bruises he'd left with. Pinpricks compared to the pain she had been forced to endure for years. But now it made her feel better, to know she had given him at least some pain to compensate for what he had done to her now.

"Hey," Murtagh said softly, and Ariana blinked, looking up. He looked concerned, but refrained from mentioning her obvious distress. "So, we have a bit of a problem."

Ariana raised her eyebrows. Was that a smile on his face? Yup. A tiny little smile was playing around his lips.

"Thorn is too big to fit in here," Murtagh explained, waving a hand at the trees around them, his voice shaking with amusement, "And you look too tired to run to open ground. So I was thinking we could, um…"

"We could what?" Ariana asked warily, but feeling herself involuntarily warm to him. His eyes were sparkling with excitement, and he smiled suddenly – and Ariana fought herself to keep from squealing. He had dimples! One on each cheek, carved perfectly into his skin. And when he smiled his entire face opened up and his eyes shone beautifully, twinkling like diamonds captured between dark lashes.

Shut up, she told herself sternly. But his enthusiasm was a little infectious. What was wrong with him? Just a few minutes ago he had been angry with her – _why _had he walked away from her like that? – and now he was behaving as if she was his best friend, if not more…

Taking a step forward, Murtagh whispered conspiratorially, "We can't ride on his back, so we have to…be creative."

Confused, Ariana looked up at him, noticing as she did so that he had suddenly come a lot closer to her, and that he was much, much taller than she. Her heart thudded in her breast as he came even closer, standing angled to her so that his chest brushed against her shoulder, his angular face tilted upwards, looking at the dark sky. For what?

And then so many things happened at once.

A muscular red dragon tail swung down from the sky above them, accompanied by the _thud _of Thorn's wings against the air. Without warning, Ariana felt a strong arm wrap around her waist, and her body crashed against Thorn's tail and bounced off to collide with Murtagh's hard muscles. And she fought down a scream as she felt herself rising into the air, her loose hair blowing back from her face as a cold wind blew against her, their surroundings running together with their speed.

Panicking, Ariana tried to hold on to Thorn's tail as he pumped his wings above them, creating a vast membranous canopy silhouetted against the moon. But his scales were smooth, and Murtagh was holding on to the largest spine, his body between her and the others within her reach. His arm was still twined tightly around her waist, but Thorn changed direction and his tail swung out like a rudder, and Ariana found herself tilted backwards at such an angle that she was positive she was about to fall away from the dragon and his crazy Rider and die.

Blood rushed into her head as Thorn swung his tail again, but Murtagh threw his head back and whooped, his slightly overgrown hair flying, a genuine smile on his face. And then the sky rushed by as the tail moved again, and Ariana's last shreds of pride melted away. Reaching out, she clung to Murtagh's chest, feeling the throb of his heart against her cheek.

"You okay?" Murtagh yelled over the rush of the wind, pulling her farther into him with the arm around her waist, but Thorn banked sharply to one side and Ariana shrieked with terror, her heart thudding so fast she was scared it would burst. Her breath came in short pants, and as the tail they were hanging on to swerved again she moaned with fear into his soft tunic.

Against her, his body curved slightly, shifting to accommodate her better. "Here," Murtagh said in her ear, his breath tickling her lightly, "Try to – hey, look at me."

Surprised by his gentle, coaxing tone, Ariana lifted her head, a soft gasp slipping between her parted lips as two platinum eyes met hers, his face dangerously close to hers. So close that she could count every eyelash decorating his gorgeous eyes.

Unable to maintain eye contact for fear of blushing, her heart hammering frantically against her ribs with the combination of fear, panic, and the sudden rush of heat his proximity had induced, Ariana lowered her eyes. The pressure of his hand on her waist increased suddenly.

"Trust me," Murtagh breathed, his low voice causing goosebumps to erupt all over her skin. _Damn him_.

But every thought flew out of her head as Murtagh's arm shoved her forward, and Ariana fell forward, too scared to even make a sound, terrified by the void opening up as Murtagh shifted back, opening a space for her to fall into the sky. But at the last minute, he caught her again.

With a gasp, her eyes flying wide open, Ariana crashed hard into a huge spine jutting out of Thorn's tail. It was against her head, and even though she put each hand on either side of his thick tail, she felt woefully unsupported – until Murtagh's slender yet sturdy form pushed up against her, his hand holding on lightly to the spine for support, his other arm holding her to him. There was nothing beneath her feet except for his body, and Ariana felt vertigo threatening to overcome her at the terrifying feeling of weightlessness, of nonexistence.

But how was Murtagh standing? Steeling herself, Ariana looked down, and saw that his left foot was resting on a small spine, the other leg held against his dragon's tail. Scared of seeing how high up they were, she tore her eyes away from the scene below her and looked up. He was effectively holding her up – without his arms where they were, held securely around her waist – she would have fallen a long time ago.

Gingerly, Ariana lay her hands on his arms, one on his forearm, the other on his bicep, suddenly aware of how he had positioned them, their chests pressing up against each other. She couldn't take a deep breath without her breast pushing into his, and it took every ounce of willpower she had to keep her breathing shallow when she was still scared, despite his hold, that she was going to slip off and fall to her death.

"Does he always move his tail this much?" Ariana shouted as the muscle they were clinging to swung through the air again at breakneck speed, blowing her hair over her eyes. Trying to clear her vision, Ariana shook her head from side to side, but the wind refused to let up, and her hair refused to move, the straight red strands stubbornly obscuring her sight.

A deep chuckle made her shiver, and then she froze. Warm fingers were stealing over her face, and the thick curtain of hair before her eyes was pulled aside, revealing Murtagh's laughing face. He really did have a beautiful smile, Ariana thought, taking languid breaths in an effort not to blush. But she could feel the heat suffusing her neck and cheeks anyway.

Slowly, he tucked her hair behind her ear, his fingers moving slowly through the red strands, brushing her cheek and stroking her ear gently. His fingers were calloused and rough, she noticed, but scarcely had the thought flitted through her mind before Thorn, who had been climbing in altitude, decided to level out.

With another powerful rush of air, his wings snapped out into an open, soaring position, no longer beating, just riding the updraft. But as he did so, his tail stopped hanging beneath him – he brought it up to be nearly level with his body. Startled and unprepared for the sudden movement, Ariana fell backwards, collapsing onto Thorn's raised tail on her back. Moments later Murtagh crashed on top of her, grunting with the impact, his chest muffling her face.

Her head banged against the scales behind her, and Ariana screwed up her eyes in pain, willing herself not to cry out. Murtagh's weight lifted off her suddenly, although she could still feel his body flush against hers, and Ariana heard him mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like "stupid dragon."

"This was your idea," Ariana hissed, opening her eyes to glare at the only part of him she could see – a sliver of his chest exposed by the neck of his shirt, which had flopped forward slightly. The material was soft – obviously expensive. Cashmere, maybe? Or soft cotton. She liked the feel of it against her skin. Wait…what? A glance down at herself showed her that her own tunic – yes, she adopted tunics and leggings and boots when she wanted to, because dresses were so impractical – which had a loose fit on her slight frame to begin with, had slipped partway down her chest. And she couldn't tug it up, because Murtagh's arms were resting over hers, pinioning her against the idiotic dragon's tail. Besides, she didn't want to relinquish her grip on a small spine by her left hand, for fear of sliding off the smooth red scales.

She felt his body vibrate as he laughed, before lifting himself off her a little more. Ariana seized the opportunity to slide her right hand out from under his and to move her tunic upwards to better cover her chest. Not that she had much to hide anyway.

"I've done this before," Murtagh said, his voice nearly a whisper, reminiscence honeying his tone. Tilting back her head against Thorn, Ariana saw the smile on his face. It was so disarmingly sweet that she smiled softly in spite of herself, her fingers itching to trace the curve of his lips. She put her hand back under his. And her heart nearly stopped beating for a moment when she felt his hand pressure hers, his fingers curving just slightly to cup her own.

"It was soon after we escaped, after the old king died," he said, dropping his head over her so that his hair tickled her forehead. But the movement put her in shadow; she couldn't even see his face, just his silhouette. Yet she could feel his warm breath wafting ever so lightly across her brows. Could he feel the pulse in her wrist skyrocketing? Could he hear her heart trying to free itself from her ribs to join his?

Ariana bit down hard on her lower lip, relishing the sharp pain. Pain she could handle, and she could count on it to distract her. Men were bad news, hadn't she learned that by now?

"I don't really remember why, but I thought it would be a good idea to try riding from his tail. I nearly fell off a few times, but once I got the hang of it I never wanted to stop. I've gotten a lot better since then – I can hang on while he's doing loops and even diving." His voice died away, and Ariana took a few moments to snap out of the dreamlike daze its low, wistful murmur had dragged her into.

"Sounds like an adrenaline addiction," she offered, not sure what to say.

Laughing, Murtagh threw his head back, and the moon drifted out from behind a cloud, its pale fingers of light illuminating his smile, glistening like droplets of water in his hair. He looked like an angel. A happy, strong young man with his future before him, flying through the skies. He really did have such a sweet smile. Those dimples were the perfect finishing touch.

And before she could contradict that thought, he spoke again.

"I'm sorry." A pause. "I shouldn't have just walked away like that, I just…_memories_. I couldn't – I just, it was –"

"It's okay," Ariana whispered, a warm little bubble of hope expanding in her chest. "I understand." And she did. How many nights had the feel of Orrin's hand in hers tortured her? The way the embrace must have reminded Murtagh of one with the woman he loved? At the thought of Nasuada, Ariana scowled. She had stolen Orrin from her, and was distancing Murtagh from her too – although whether what she felt for Murtagh was as strong as her love for Orrin, Ariana wasn't sure. But she did know that she needed to forget about Orrin. And his infidelity.

"Thank you." Murtagh's voice brought her back to the present, just as Thorn banked to one side – but gently, this time. His fingers brushed her cheek as he pulled her hair back, exposing her face to him, and Ariana instinctively backed up slightly, since she had limited space to work with. Warm fingers paused against her jawline. Ariana was barely breathing, wondering if the rush she felt in her very blood was caused by acute tension, enjoyment, anticipation, or discomfort. Maybe all of them.

Suddenly Murtagh's weight vanished from her body, and Ariana looked up to see him smoothly shifting his position, lifting himself off her and settling near a large spine, hooking his arm lazily around it, his legs bent in the typical male attitude, the other elbow resting on his knee, the material of his black pants rubbing against his arm. "Thorn says he'll warn me before he makes any major movements with his tail," he told her. "I thought you might want me to get off you."

Something suspiciously close to disappointment trilled inside her for a moment, but resolutely ignoring it, Ariana raised herself up on her elbows, looking for a spine she could hold on to.

"That one," Murtagh suggested, pointing. Hesitating, Ariana lunged suddenly for the spine, terrified that Thorn would move while she was. But nothing happened, and she put her arms around it as she pulled her knees in, resting one boot-clad ankle over the other. Then she looked up.

Murtagh was laughing at her. Well, silently, but a large grin was spread over his face, showing off those beautiful dimples he had.

"What?" Ariana snapped.

He shook his head, still laughing, saying nothing.

Letting her eyes drift away from him, Ariana watched the stars go by, twinkling at her like diamonds strewn over dark blue velvet, illuminating by warm candlelight. Sitting on a dragon's tail, in the middle of the night, with a young man she barely knew, Ariana felt safer than she could remember.

Strange, really.

The silence stretched on with the stars, Thorn's wings barely moving as they glided silently over the vast carpet of the Beor Mountains below them. It didn't feel stressed, just comfortable.

Her tunic began to feel frigid and damp, and Ariana shook herself from her tired daze. A thick mist surrounded her; she could only barely see a dark outline that was Murtagh. With a jolt, she realized they were flying through clouds. Stretching out her arm, Ariana held her hand up high, wonder filling her to the brim. Floating in clouds. It sounded like such a dream.

She sneezed suddenly, violently, and the mists parted around her as Murtagh slid over to her. Silently, he pulled off his cloak – a different one, she noticed, than the green one he'd given her earlier. This one was black, and it fell heavily to surround her as he draped it over her shoulders.

"No, you need it," Ariana protested, lifting it off her body, secretly missing the warmth it had given her as her tunic, while comfortable, had sleeves that only reached her elbows and hung loosely around her frame in general, the sleeves wide as well. It was not difficult for the cold air to reach her. But she wasn't comfortable taking his cloak – wasn't that something a man did for a girl he loved? Not for just anyone. And she didn't want to take that place in his life – or convince herself that she could.

Murtagh frowned as she pulled his cloak off herself and tried to hand it back to him. If he was honest with himself, she was beginning to worry him. When he had returned to the cave and found her dress in a heap on the ground, her bags opened, and some of her weapons missing, Thorn had immediately panicked. So he had hurriedly packed the saddlebags, fastened them onto the dragon, who had landed in a nearby clearing, and they had both taken off, one in the skies and one on foot.

The image of her in her flowing light green tunic flashed into his mind, and he had a feeling it was burned onto his retinas. She had beautiful, shapely legs, exposed by the tunic that reached only the middle of her thighs – the boots did hide her calves, though. But her body was extremely slender, and a memory of Nasuada's soft curves came to him. Yet Murtagh couldn't deny that the girl with him was beautiful – in an odd way. Her hair was a strange color – a deep red, so dark that if he hadn't known that she was an elf, he wouldn't have believed it was real. But elves were known for...interesting coloring. And she had freckles, something no classically beautiful woman ever had. But Ariana's eyes were really what captivated him, dark blue and trapped in long dark lashes – he bit his lip, suddenly angry.

He knew that he was thinking so much of Ariana only because she was an attractive girl, and he was a warm-blooded young man. Besides, he hadn't been this close to a woman in years. And there had never been a romance in his past – except for the short-lived relationship with Nasuada, who was now attempting to marry Orrin – or at least seduce him. It crossed his mind that it was simply a political ploy, but the strong, courageous, intelligent Nasuada he knew would never sell her body to attain her goals. She would find other ways to overcome whatever obstacles came in her way.

But what annoyed him about Ariana – and irritated him – was not the fact that his body was starting to betray his love for Nasuada, although he was a master of self-control and knew he could handle himself. Murtagh hated the way Ariana kept closing herself off, as if she had suffered something horrible and traumatizing. Well, maybe she had, but she behaved as if he was about to throw her off Thorn because of it. But he had lived through so much worse than she had – how could he believe that he would judge her? And no one else knew of her past, of the blood staining her small white hands. But _everyone _knew who he was and what he had done, and no one would ever forget or forgive him.

But _damn_, was this girl beautiful.

Maybe – just maybe – that was why he got her to ride on Thorn's tail instead of telling her about the clearing a short run away where Thorn could land. But she really did need to learn to have some fun. He rolled his eyes at himself. Like he knew anything about fun.

A strange feeling seeped through Murtagh, and he realized with a jolt of embarrassment that Thorn had been listening to his entire internal rant. Including the parts about the girl being gorgeous.

_If it makes you feel better_, the dragon said, still laughing, _I think she likes you too. _

_ What? I don't like her. _

Thorn scoffed. _Of course not, Murtagh. You spend half your time thinking she's beautiful and most of the rest staring at her, but you don't like her. _

_ Shut up. _

_ I know you do. That's why you're being so much nicer than before – and you're smiling around her because you know women like dimples. Which is worrying her, I think. It would worry me if I was her. She probably thinks you want to eat her._

Murtagh chuckled. _I don't want to eat her…unless you mean eating her in a more figurative kind of way – which I still don't, I'm just – _

Thorn was amused, but he pretended not to be. _You know what I mean. You could just tell her how you feel, you know. _

_ No! I don't like her. And besides…_

_ What?_

The memory of Nasuada supporting him after he had helped kill Galbatorix and was leaving the palace severely wounded flooded Murtagh's mind, and Thorn sighed.

_Little one, she – _

_ I know! But I loved her, Thorn! I loved her! And she loved me too. I know it. _

_ You can't be too sure…you never really talked about it, did you? You just told her you would be back soon, and she said she would wait for you. I know you assumed that meant she would wait for you in a romantic sense, but – _

_ You don't know _anything _about romance, _Murtagh snapped, _So don't tell me anything. _

Thorn was silent, but after a moment Murtagh detected hurt in his partner's mind.

_I'm sorry, _he said. _I'm just…frustrated. _

_ Well, if you ever decide to move on from Nasuada, you have a very beautiful girl who is obviously infatuated with you despite her better instincts sitting about a foot away from you. _

_ How do you know, anyway? _

_ I was inside her mind while she healed you – to provide her with my energy if she needed it. And while she tried to suppress it, she had some very…interesting…thoughts about you. _

_ Like what? _Despite himself, Murtagh was interested.

Thorn chuckled. _I won't tell you. She wouldn't appreciate it. But maybe one day she'll tell you. _

_ Come on. _

Murtagh's cloak suddenly sailed through the air and landed in his lap, and he blinked, startled. Evidently she had grown tired of waiting for him to notice that she was trying to give it back, and had simply thrown it at him.

Thorn laughed again. _Remember what I said_. Before Murtagh could think of a witty response, the dragon withdrew from his mind, and he sighed, still able to feel amusement seeping through their link.

He balled up the cloak and tossed it back at her, grinning as she snagged it from the air looking grumpy.

"It's yours," Ariana said. "It's freezing – you need it."

"No, I don't," Murtagh lied smoothly. He was cold, true, but he could handle it.

Ariana eyed his sleeves disbelievingly. He had rolled them up to his elbows, which revealed his strong, corded forearms, but there was no way he wasn't cold. She opened her mouth to protest again, and he silenced her with a look.

Suddenly he smirked. "Or do you want to share?"

Ariana could only gape. Damn him and his dimples. He looked so good in that moment, lounging back lazily against the spine, his hair flopping over his forehead and blowing slightly in the wind, and those beautiful dimples appearing around his surprisingly attractive smirk, that she couldn't do anything but stare.

"Thank you," he grinned. Before she knew what was happening, Murtagh had leaned over and grasped her arm, pulling her over to sit beside him. In seconds, he had the cloak around them both, his arm going around her shoulders to fasten it. And then, of course, the arm didn't move.

Ariana was frozen. The weight of his arm around her shoulders felt comfortable, intimate. She couldn't deny that she liked sitting next to him like this, and the warmth of his body and the cloak made the moment even more delicious. But she couldn't shake the memory of how he had just walked away from him in the woods. Why was he being so much nicer now?

As if he had read her mind, Murtagh's whisper eased itself into her ear. "I am sorry. For how I was earlier."

For a moment she wondered if what she wanted to do was a good idea, and then sighed. To hell with it all. She moved an inch closer to him, dropping her head onto his strong shoulder. His hand tightened around hers.

"It's alright," she said, her heart hammering frantically. Shark-infested waters, she knew that. Maybe the starlight had addled her mind. But she had decided to swim.

**A/N: So there you are. PLEASE REVIEW! And all my silent readers, just drop me a smiley face if you don't want to say anything. I like smileys. And I even take anonymous reviews! I made it easy for you guys! And as you know, the more reviews I get the faster I update, so please review! Especially because the coming two weeks are super busy and my writing time will be much less. Reviews motivate me. Otherwise you might have to wait a while for the next chapter. Thanks for reading, have a good life! I will "see" you all soon :D**


	5. A Little Bit Stronger

**A/N: Hi again! I know, I know, it's been forever! I missed you guys soo sooooo much! And I am so sorry about the hellish wait – I had to study for finals, and then my muse and my brain went on vacation in the Bahamas together. But they are both back, and hopefully this chapter isn't too horrible, even though I wrote the whole thing today! **

**Before we start, I'd like to take a moment to honor the victims of the shooting in Sandy Hook, Connecticut, and also those innocents murdered causelessly all over the world. We can't ease their pain, but we can mourn with them, and keep them in our thoughts and prayers. We love you, we feel for you, and we will help you in every way we can. **

**Thank you, please enjoy the chapter and leave a review! **

Chapter 5: A Little Bit Stronger

With a light nudge, Thorn slipped into her open mind, and Ariana sat up, tensing. _We need to talk_, Thorn said, and Ariana felt another channel open up into her mind – Murtagh.

_Yes, about those men Thorn killed_, Murtagh clarified, and Ariana froze.

_Killed? You said you let them go! _She was shocked, and that rendered her speechless. She sensed regret from Thorn. He had lied to her. Lied! It wasn't a particularly big one, but she had put her lives into their hands, considering that either could kill her at a moment's whim, and it had taken every ounce of courage she had to trust them not to kill her. _Can I even trust you? _She couldn't help the bitterness.

_It doesn't matter, does it? _Murtagh intervened, but his surprise at Thorn's lie was obvious, considering that it was pointless. _The point is that they're dead. The important thing is what he extracted before they died. _

_ Oh, and what was that? _The bite in her voice was uncontrollable. Why couldn't she trust anyone?

_Stop feeling so betrayed, _Murtagh said, trying not to snap at her. _It was a white lie. No one was hurt. He just didn't want you to think badly of him, will you stop treating him like that?_

_ Think badly of him? He _lied _to me! _

_ And you've told us the truth? _Murtagh was definitely angry now. _You haven't told us everything, I know that! I am not pushing you for the full truth of your life, I don't expect it from you! Can you extend us the same consideration? _

_ I didn't tell you because I wanted you to stay, and I needed to spike your curiosity. I'm sorry. _

She was silent.

_They were from Helgrind_, Thorn said quietly.

Ariana gasped. _Helgrind! _Memories of the place, its sickening practices, rivulets of blood flowing from ecstatic amputees flooded her mind. The disgust from the others was palpable.

_Yes. And they were searching for Murtagh. _

_ Why? _Ariana asked. Murtagh withdrew his arm from her shoulder, and she felt inexplicably grateful for it. She couldn't understand her own emotions these days, but she had a sudden desire for space.

_Couldn't figure it out – they didn't know much, _Murtagh replied. _But something big is happening there in a few days. And I want to be there when it does. We're telling you this because – if – _

_ If you want to leave, rather than go to Helgrind or constantly be attacked, as you will be if you remain with us_, Thorn said, _You may. Neither of us will think badly of you for it – I can drop you off anywhere in our route. _

Ariana paused. Her instincts were screaming at her to run, but something made her hesitate. She would miss out on the adventure of her life if she stayed behind, and she had to admit that her life in Surda, pretending to be a docile little interest for Orrin, had on one side driven her crazy, although she had enjoyed his attentions. Ariana was a young woman who had grown up used to adrenaline racing through her veins, used to muscles trembling after unthinkable exertion. She missed her weapons after even a day of not using them, and had often escaped from Surda to visit other cities, other places, even the woods, just to get away from all the pretenses, the peace in the city that she had failed to find within herself. Even Orrin had failed to find it, she knew that now.

So why shouldn't she stay with Murtagh and Thorn? Apart from the fact that they had lied to her and she wasn't sure she could trust them, she couldn't think of a reason. And besides, there was someone Ariana wanted to visit in Helgrind. What better opportunity would she have?

_I'm staying_, Ariana told them, opening her mind up again – she hadn't wanted them privy to her internal monologue.

_Are you sure? _Murtagh's gray eyes bore into her, and she nodded.

_Do you two mind climbing up to my back now? I'm tired of worrying that you're both going to fall of. _Ariana grinned at Thorn's comment – the dragon did sound irritated.

_Thorn, we've done this enough – _

_ She hasn't. Now get up, little one, before I knock you both off to prove my point. _

A few terrifying moments later, Ariana was seated behind Murtagh on Thorn's back, panting from the climb up from the dragon's tail to his back, her arms wound around Murtagh's surprisingly slender waist to stay in position. Thorn banked sharply to the left, climbing higher into the skies as he changed direction.

_But Helgrind is so close to Ilirea, _Ariana continued, _Do you think Nasuada sent them? _

Murtagh balked at the thought, his mind disconnecting abruptly for hers. He was tense against her, and silent. He was discussing the idea with Thorn, she knew. And Ariana couldn't blame him for excluding her from the exchange. She felt strangely excited, and even though the thought of him and Nasuada did prick, it didn't bother her too much. She was going to meet her closest friend – and even sooner than she'd expected, judging by the speed at which Thorn was covering ground. And really, even if nothing happened with Murtagh, Ariana was determined not to let it tear her apart. She had lived through too much to be defeated by men.

A light tapping at her mind alerted her, and she gave way, letting Murtagh and Thorn back in.

_It's possible you're right_, Murtagh said, sounding worried and strained. _But I don't understand why she would send – _

_ Maybe she just wanted to find you, _Ariana suggested, hating herself for even mentioning it. What if it gave him hope that Nasuada still loved him? What if she really did?

_They had orders to kill on sight, _Thorn said quietly. _If Nasuada sent them…_He didn't finish. He didn't have to.

_But the war is over_, Murtagh muttered. _Why would she – _

_ Little one. _Thorn sounded as though he were in great pain, making Ariana listen closer. _For some, it is never over. _

Pain emanated from Murtagh, and Ariana sensed empathy and sorrow from Thorn, before she severed the link, breathing hard. Murtagh's pain had nearly paralyzed her, but she hadn't been able to tell what kind it was – betrayal, unrequited love, it didn't matter. Everything hurt, after all. Which was precisely why love was such a waste of time. All it brought with it was pain, regret, and loss. Before leaving, which it always did, love made sure to kill every smile it gave you. And then it gave you tears and sleepless nights after its departure, to make sure you never forgot the world's sweetest pain. An addicting pain.

Carefully backing up slightly from Murtagh, Ariana curled her little body up over the latter half of Thorn's saddle and closed her eyes. She was going to need to be wide awake when they reached Helgrind, if even half the rumors she had heard while eavesdropping on Orrin's conversations were true. The place reeked of evil.

Unfortunately, so did her dreams.

But, Ariana realized moments later, this wasn't just a dream. She was reliving her memories – and this one, for some reason, kept coming back. But even though she knew she was dreaming, she couldn't open her eyes.

_She crept through the dark streets of Ur__û__'baen, her quiver strapped tightly over her torso, her bow held in her left hand. Her soft leather boots made no sound as she scaled the side of a house and swung herself up onto the roof, taking a few deep breaths to slow her breathing before crouching down and continuing. _

_ Hearing horses' hooves on the streets below her, Ariana pressed flat to the rooftop, barely breathing. But it wasn't her quarry – three soldiers were patrolling, and were talking their own sweet time about it. Either they hadn't received orders, or they were absconding – but either way, they had the potential to ruin her mission. That needed to be fixed. _

_ Ariana jumped off the roof, landing silently in a crouch before them. _

_ "What the hell!" One swung at her with his sword, and she batted it aside impatiently with her forearm. _

_ "Read this," she ordered, withdrawing a crumpled sheet of paper from a pocket in her cloak and shoving it in his face, expecting his companions to read over his shoulder. They did, and all their faces paled as they saw Galbatorix's signature at the bottom. "You are all to proceed to the gates and take orders from the man in charge there. If any of you hinder the mission in any way, I _will _eliminate you from my position. Understood?" _

_ They nodded, staring at her. A woman in charge? Unthinkable, right? Ariana smirked at them before leaning forward slightly, stroking her smooth bow with one finger. _

_ "Neither of these two men is to survive this night," she said softly. "Remember that." With that, she turned and hurried down a few more houses before climbing up the side of one, and crossing from one rooftop to the next until the tall wrought iron gates to the city came into sight. _

_ Looking around, she choose a roof and leaped over to it, settling herself behind the short brick chimney. The roof was covered in straw, which poked through her thin leggings and scratched at her legs, but Ariana ignored it. Dropping her cloak, she rolled her shoulders and stretched out her arms, limbering up her muscles. _

_ Who were the two men she was to kill? She didn't know, but was dying to find out. Who did Galbatorix want gone now? Two noblemen who had displeased him? Commoners who had forgotten to bow? A man who had stolen his concubine? She sighed. It wasn't her place to ask or to refuse to kill. _

_ Her back was still sore from the whipping she had received around a month ago, when she had refused to murder an eighteen-year-old boy in his bed. The boy's crime? He had smiled at a woman Galbatorix had desired. Now he was to die. The whipping had left no scars, thanks to the healer who had attended to her that night after she had nearly dragged herself to the woman's doorstep. But the ones who had healed her after later beatings had not been so kind – and she had promised herself then to always put her own life first. And so these two men were to die tonight. _

_ She had no choice, Ariana told herself sternly. But she couldn't shake the regret. They wanted to live, just as she did. How was it they had to die, but she didn't? Who was she to decide their face? _

_ Hooves clattered again against the street, and she instinctively loaded an arrow. She would deal with her questions later. Right now, right under the king's nose, she was not about to disobey orders directly from him. He was most likely scrying the mission from his castle anyway. _

_ Two men rounded the corner, and she heard their shouts of surprise as the soldiers waiting for them at the gates laid into them with their swords. Blades were flashing in the firelight, and Ariana stayed her hand. She didn't want to miss her shot. No extra lives would be taken by her hand tonight. _

_ Barz__ûl, she thought. Ill fate. Why else should these men die? They were incredibly talented with the sword – she watched, fascinated, as their blades twisted through the air, felling soldier after soldier. And then, she had her first chance for a clean shot. _

_Both the men were cloaked and hooded – she couldn't see either's face, and both had their backs to her. But one of them had his unprotected back to her, and Ariana acted on instinct. Spinning out from behind the chimney, kneeling into position, her every muscle as taut as her bowstring, Ariana sighted down the shaft, pulled back the little more that the string would give, and then released her arrow. _

_It spiraled through the air, beauty in motion, flashing in the dim red glow of the torches, and met its mark. _

_And a cry, so full of sorrow and pain and disbelief that it froze the marrow in her bones, escaped the other man. Ariana collapsed against the chimney, shaken by the scream of loss. What had she done? Screams of other men arose from below her, and she knew that they were the dying screams of the soldiers who were being slaughtered by the bereaved man. Had she taken a father from his son? Had she given someone else her own pain to carry? _

_The memory of a blood-spattered whip slicing through her already lacerated, shaking, pain-riddled body roused her, and Ariana put another arrow to her bow, aiming at the second man. But she had to switch roofs, still holding her bow in position, as he had neared the gate already, the street strewn with the still bodies of soldiers, the stench of blood stifling her. _

_And as she leaped across to the next roof, the man turned his head towards her, saw her with her bow held aloft. The upper half of his face was cast in shadow by his hood, but she saw a finely carved jaw and lips, twisted in pain. He yelled in fury, pulling out a dagger in his left hand, and Ariana was preparing to dodge it when another soldier closed in on him, and the dagger was lost in the man's throat. _

_She loosed the arrow, but knew before she did that it wouldn't meet its target. It clattered uselessly against the gate, across which the young man she had been ordered to murder was swinging himself, standing on his horse's back and using his hands to propel himself over it. And while the soldiers screamed on the ground, and others struggled to open the gate and give chase, he melted away into the night, his scream when his companion had been slain still reverberating in Ariana's ears. _

_Shaking, feeling a tear slide down her cheek, Ariana fell against the chimney, letting her bow fall out of her loose hands. Breathing heavily, she dropped down into the street, approaching the man she had shot. He was lying on his stomach, and she was crouching down beside him, reaching out a hand to turn him over and see the face of the man, when a rough kick in the ribs made fall back, crying out in pain. A soldier stood over her, his lip curling in disgust. _

"_Get out of here, woman!" he snapped, drawing his sword. Hissing in anger, Ariana snared an arrow from her quiver, only to realize that she had left her bow behind. Rearing, she hurled the arrow at the soldier before her, and he collapsed. It had pierced him in the heart. _

_She bent over the dead man again, but now the other soldiers were swarming her, forcing her back. Most didn't know who she was, but they had seen her kill one of them. Some were reaching for her, with sickening smiles on their faces, and Ariana fled, leaving her cloak and weapons where they were. She would retrieve them in the morning – if she survived her failure. _

_Hoisting herself onto the horse waiting for her, she rode back into the castle, still shaking. How was she to explain her failure? They would examine her memories of the incident to find out. No explanations were going to be necessary – they were going to punish her. But she remembered the young man who had escaped, and suddenly felt a new emotion: acceptance. The pain they were going to inflict on her would be her atonement for the death of the young man's companion. And she would take it in exchange for his life. _

The dream faded away as she slid off her horse, and Ariana opened her eyes to find sunlight beginning to dispel the last shadows of the night. Murtagh was staring down at her, his eyes worried.

And suddenly Ariana gasped, feeling as though she had received a sharp punch in the gut. The young man she had seen after killing the first had the same jaw and lips as the one before her. It was Murtagh she had failed to kill! No wonder Galbatorix had had her tortured so ruthlessly that night. He would know the identity of the man she had murdered that night, but Ariana knew she would never ask him. He would most likely shove her off of Thorn's back then and there. She was lucky he hadn't seen her face that night. If he had, he would probably have killed her on the spot, the first time he'd ever seen her.

"Are you all right?" Murtagh's voice broke into her thoughts. "You just turned white."

She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak calmly. Her heart was throbbing inside her – with fear. What if he discovered her secret? She had no doubt that whoever the man was – definitely not his father, she knew that much – had meant a lot to Murtagh. At some point, he would probably find out what she'd done, and then…

Something swung before her eyes, and Ariana shrieked, bringing up her forearm to defend herself and falling backwards – which was a mistake. She rolled to the side and nearly fell off the dragon, but Murtagh grabbed her hand and hauled her back up.

"What were you _doing_?" Murtagh demanded. "I was just trying to give you this!" He held up his wineskin.

"Sorry," Ariana panted, acutely and uncomfortably aware that she owed him her life – again. "I was just…panicking."

"Really?" Murtagh asked sarcastically. "I had no idea." He sighed. "I meant why?"

"Bad dream."

"You aren't used to them yet?"

"It wasn't just a dream."

"Then?"

"I dream of people I've killed," Ariana admitted, her voice so soft it was barely audible. "I dream the memories, over and over, and this one…it won't go away. It was years ago, but it keeps coming back!"

Murtagh stared silently out at the emerging skyline before them. They were passing over Surda now, and he watched as Ariana realized it too, her face growing paler, if possible.

"I think you need the drink," he said, offering her the wineskin once again, hoping she wouldn't try to throw herself off of Thorn again in response.

Blushing slightly as she remembered her behavior moments ago, Ariana took it, giving him a small smile as she took a quick sip, letting the spicy mead warm her from the inside out. She returned it to him, and they sat in silence.

Her cheeks warmed again as she remembered how he had put his arm around her in the night, but now they both maintained a safe distance from each other. With every powerful beat of Thorn's wings, Ariana became more convinced that the strong pull she had felt towards Murtagh in the night had been a result of sleep deprivation and exhaustion, and her neediness for companionship had propelled her to him. But now she felt alert and in control, and wasn't so sure she really needed him. Unless she did something stupid and nearly fell of the dragon, as she had a few minutes ago.

Murtagh's head was turned away from her, his lips drawn slightly, and Ariana knew he was talking to Thorn again. But the pang she felt at his ability to have someone to turn to faded quickly, as she remembered where they were headed. For all its faults, Helgrind held within its walls the one person she felt truly comfortable with.

As if Murtagh had been listening to her thoughts – which she knew he hadn't, because her mind was currently guarded – he said, "We can camp outside Helgrind, there are some useful hills right outside of it. I don't know anyone inside, so –"

"I do," Ariana smiled, nearly giddy with excitement. "We can stay with her, she won't mind."

His brows knit together. "Who?"

Leaning in conspiratorially, Ariana whispered, "My cousin."

"Wait, wait." Murtagh stared at her, his silver eyes glittering in the full glow of the sun, as if they had small diamonds in them, angled to catch the light. For a moment Ariana stared with her mouth open, and then blushed and closed it. He eyed her curiously and then continued, and she heaved a sigh of relief that he hadn't caught on to what she was staring at. "How do you know she's your cousin if you don't know anything about your parents?"

"Memories and the ancient language," Ariana said. "I told her what I knew of my mother – she's a full elf, and she said that there were very few elf women who had ever mated with males. Judging by my age, she figured out who my mother was. She died in the war," Ariana said indifferently. "I never knew her; it didn't affect me much. But my cousin, she's been in Helgrind for a while now, keeping an eye on things. She had a feeling something wasn't right, and so she bought a home there and moved in, although she does return to Ellesméra occasionally. I used to leave Surda to visit her quite often. She's one of the few people I actually trust."

"Are you sure she won't mind us staying with her?" Murtagh asked. "Because I'm not a welcome guest anywhere – you can stay with her, Thorn and I will –"

Ariana scoffed. "Murtagh, the war's over. You're on our side, we know that. It doesn't matter what you did, you were forced to! You'll be with me, and that'll be enough for her. As long as you don't do anything too stupid, she'll be fine with you."

Murtagh shook his head, his expression tortured. "I killed Hrothgar, remember? I hadn't been ordered to – I was just so angry, that he accepted my half-brother but not me, and I had just received the Eldunarí and knew that I had power none of my enemies expected, and I used it!" He stared at her, pain in his eyes. "How could I use it?"

She shrugged. "Everyone snaps eventually, Murtagh. Be glad you didn't kill Eragon instead." Ariana itched to tell him that it was all okay now, but it wasn't, and she knew that. The dwarves would never forgive him for killing their king. _Kingkiller_. When they used the term for Eragon, it was once of respect and thankfulness. But it was rarely used in relation to Murtagh, and when it was, it was spoken with every ounce of hatred that the speaker could summon.

Murtagh bit his lip, unable to respond. She had told him what he already knew – but what else had he expected? He was glad she hadn't lied to his face and said it was alright. It wasn't. But what could he do with himself? No one cared for him, no one accepted him, no one wanted him to live! Why couldn't he have died when Eragon had wounded him before Galbatorix?

_Murtagh! _Thorn was furious, and Murtagh inhaled sharply. But the dragon didn't speak again – instead, he flooded his young Rider with love, and let him feel the sharp pain Thorn had felt when he had wished for death.

Murtagh was reeling under the strength of Thorn's love for him – although he had known that the bond between them was strong, Thorn was usually as stoic as he. He felt a single tear slide down his face. Why did he keep wishing someone cared when Thorn did, and so much?

Finally the dragon withdrew slightly.

_Little one, don't you _ever _wish for that again. I care for you. Enough to die for you, and enough to live and suffer whatever you do with you. _

_I know, Thorn, but sometimes…how can you cope with everyone wanting you dead?_

_Not everyone does. _

_Really?_

_She hasn't thrown herself off my back yet, nor has she tried to slit your throat even though she's been sitting behind you for hours. _

_She did try to throw herself off. _

_You caught her. _

_Yes. _

_Why?_

A pause.

_Why did you catch her, Murtagh? _

_Because she would have died. _

_It mattered to you?_

_She saved my life. _

_Would she have saved it if she wanted you dead?_

_She didn't know who I was when she did. _

_She saw me. There is only one red dragon alive in Alagaësia. She knew who you were. _

Murtagh sighed.

_She wasn't about to let you die, and she did whatever it took to save you. She understands that you are not what you did, and she can forgive it. If she can, so can others. _

_Are you sure? She has quite a past, Thorn. Maybe she forgives me in the hope that others will treat her the same way. _

_She gives me hope, _Thorn replied. _And that, little one, is enough for me. She is honest in caring for you. It isn't because she didn't want a death on her conscience – she has enough for it not to matter. _

_Thank you, _Murtagh said after a moment.

He sensed love from Thorn, and smiled, letting his own wash over his partner. _I love you_, Murtagh said quietly.

"When will we reach?" Ariana asked from behind him, and Murtagh blinked quickly before turning to her, trying to remember what was happening around him.

"By sunrise tomorrow, if everything goes well," he answered.

Ariana groaned and leaned back against the saddle, lying flat on her back and staring at the sky. "A whole day?"

"Bored already?" Murtagh grinned.

"I need to shoot something!"

"I'm not available!" They stared at each other. "For shooting, that is," Murtagh whispered.

After a long moment, the girl grinned at him. "I won't shoot you. Not today, anyway. Oh!" She scrambled towards him, and reached towards him. Murtagh watched her, confused, and tried not to blush as her hand brushed his hip. She sat back on her knees, his sheathed dagger in her hand.

"This is beautiful," she breathed, running a finger lightly over the engravings on the dagger's sheath.

"I made it, years ago. First one I ever forged. You can keep it if you'd like," he offered.

"No! No, I couldn't, it's yours." Ariana tried to lay it in his lap, but he grabbed it.

"I want you to have it," he said quietly, pushing it gently towards her. "My way of thanking you."

"For what?"

He paused. "For everything."

She blinked her large sapphire eyes at him, her fiery hair nearly glowing in the sun, before smiling. "Thank you too."

"For?"

An impish smile made his heart skip a beat. Murtagh stared at her, losing her reply as that smile seemed to be burned into his retinas. Even when he looked away, he could see her grin behind his lids, the sparkle in her eyes and the mischievous look on her face captivating him.

_Lost cause_, Thorn said smugly.

**A/N: REVIEW PLEEEASE! More reviews I get, the faster I will update! :D**


	6. Saving Me

**A/N: Thank you everyone who reviewed and favorited and all that! I really appreciate it! **

**One quick thing. Kalimae is pronounced Cal-ih-may, and Kali is pronounced Cal-ee (like Cali, the abbreviation of California). She is an OC created for PJOHPHGLOVE, if anyone was wondering :P**

Chapter 6: Saving Me

"So, this cousin of yours," Murtagh said a little nervously, eyeing the peak of Helgrind in the distance, "Are you sure we can trust her?"

Ariana sighed, rolling her eyes behind his back. "Yes, we can. I met her for the first time last year. She saved my life."

He turned fully to face her, his dark brows raised. "Why do you always need saving?"

"It wasn't my fault! It was my first normal trip into Dras-Leona, and I met one of their acolytes, and he was missing a hand and I stared a little too long, we got into a fight, and she knocked him out and took me into her house. And we started talking and eventually realized that we were related. We can trust her, I promise."

Murtagh gave her a long, somewhat suspicious look before turning again and bending over Thorn, caressing the red scales lightly with one hand.

_We'll be there shortly before nightfall_, Thorn said. _I'll stay hidden outside the city_.

_I hate Dras-Leona_, Murtagh muttered in response. _What they do…_

Thorn's ears twitched. _It is best not to dwell on some things, or we may find ourselves tempted to destroy the entire city with tooth, claw, fire, and sword. _

_ Maybe we should. _

_ And maybe we shouldn't. There may still be good. We cannot risk the lives of others in a foolish endeavor. _

_ Still. _

_ Little one…_

Murtagh sighed. He had developed a habit of getting angry over everything, and he often found his hand twitching towards Zar'roc the moment he grew annoyed. Thorn tried to help him, but he was still raging with fury at the world, no matter how much he tried to hide it. And the closer they got to Helgrind's looming four peaks, the less at ease he was feeling.

The hills were beginning to rise up towards them, and Ariana shivered as a cold wind whipped through her hair, chilling her to the bone.

_I'm going to land soon_, Thorn warned them. _You two can walk the rest of the way to the city. I will not come near it. _

_ Alright. _Murtagh's voice was tense, and Ariana waited for an explanation. But when none came, she decided not to bother him.

The ground came rushing up to meet them, and Thorn landed smoothly, his enormous red wings rising on either side of them, obscuring the landscape for a few moments until he brought them down.

Ariana jumped off first, Murtagh following. She had armed herself while they were still on the dragon's back, and she watched as Murtagh slung his quiver and bow over his back and then put his hand on Thorn's jaw, stroking the scales. After a few moments, Thorn made a rumbling sound in his chest and bent his head, nuzzling his Rider gently. Murtagh had a tender smile on his face, and Ariana felt a wistful one appear on her own.

_I will see you soon, Ariana, _Thorn said to her, raising his large head, the ruby eyes fixed on her. _May the wind be always beneath your wings. _

_ May the stars watch over you, _Ariana whispered. _Thank you, Thorn. _

He dipped his large, graceful head, and gave Murtagh one last long look before spreading his wings again, taking to the skies.

"Let's go," Murtagh said after a moment, his eyes still watching Thorn vanish into the clouds above. "We don't want them to close the gates."

They walked in silence, and Ariana began to feel increasingly uncomfortable. Murtagh's face was stony, and she noticed that he was gripping the hilt of his infamous sword tightly, tendons standing out in his neck. The gates of Dras-Leona had come into view when she made up her mind.

"Okay, stop!"

Murtagh gave her an annoyed glance, but slowed his pace to a halt. He raised an eyebrow.

"What's the matter, Murtagh?"

"Nothing." His voice was a low growl, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"I'm not going in there with you unless you tell me."

He simply stared at her, his eyes hard, the mouth set.

"You were fine ten minutes ago! Now you look like you're going in there to attempt murder!"

"That's all people expect from me, isn't it?" he snarled, and she frowned.

"Stop playing the victim, Murtagh! It doesn't matter, you've been forgiven, just let it go!"

"No! This is stupid!" He turned to face her fully, and Ariana took an involuntary step back. His face was a mask of fury, the eyes narrowed, and she could see rage in every taut muscle in his face. "I am not going in there with you."

She huffed angrily, starting to get seriously annoyed. Did he have some sort of complex? Did he not understand that she didn't care what he had done in the past?

"Oh? Care to tell me why?"

"Because," he hissed, "The moment someone in there recognizes me, and trust me, they will, I'll have to add your death to my conscience! I can't do it, enough have died for and because of me! I won't –"

"Shut up," Ariana snapped. "It's too late to change your mind now. Are you going to let me wander Dras-Leona's streets alone? You know what will happen to a girl unprotected! I'm armed and dangerous, yes, but even the best can be taken by surprise! You would leave me to enter alone? It's too late to wait for Thorn to return."

He glanced away from her, his face conflicted. "You'll be fine. You've run enough night missions to."

"Fine." A burning feeling was clawing up from her stomach to her throat, scorching her heart in the process. It felt like hatred, like blind anger, and Ariana stormed away from him, afraid she would attack him if she stayed a moment longer. How could he be so…indifferent? But she knew that wasn't the right word, she had seen the pain crossing his face before he had replied. He hadn't had a problem until Thorn had left them on the ground – did he want to get rid of her?

He could've just said so, she thought angrily, stomping on a meekly growing weed below her feet. But she had only taken a few more steps before something caught her wrist, and she whirled around.

Murtagh yelled in pain as her fist smashed into his face, blood running from his now crooked nose. "What was that for? I was going to tell you that I'm coming!"

"Reflex," Ariana said impassively, keeping her horribly throbbing hand held still. Hopefully she hadn't broken anything. "So you're coming now? Why? Did Thorn tell you to?"

He winced. "No, actually. I just –" He gave her what could only be classified as a pleading look, big silver eyes and all, but Ariana folded her arms over her chest. He was going to have to say it. No cute faces could save him.

Murtagh heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry."

"You should be," she snapped, eyeing his broken nose with vindictive pleasure. But it faded moments later, and she suddenly felt sick. What was she doing? Enjoying his pain when he had apologized for that which he had caused her?

Reaching out, she pulled him closer, touching the bridge of his nose. "Waíse heill," she breathed, her palm tingling with warmth as the magic rushed through her. There was an audible click, and Murtagh exhaled sharply as his nose snapped back into place, reassuming its straight, aristocratic form.

"You're covered in blood," Ariana said guiltily. "Let me – "

Without responding, he used his sleeve to mop the blood from his face.

"You'll be fine," she said softly. "No one will recognize you. Most have probably never seen you before."

He gave her a piercing look. "Are you sure? I don't want to be responsible for you dy –"

"No one will miss me," Ariana said swiftly – before realizing what she'd said, and clapping a hand over her lips.

Murtagh opened his mouth to respond, and Ariana shivered. Why was it so cold? She glanced up, and gasped.

"We have to go! They close the gates at nightfall, what if we don't make it?" The sky was darkening already, the sun about to vanish behind the mountains.

"Shit," Murtagh muttered. "Okay, let's go!"

"But I can't go in like this!" Ariana cried.

"What's the problem?" He looked completely confused, and Ariana hid a smile. He was cute when he was confused. His eyes got so wide, and his lips parted slightly, and his eyebrows were flying up his forehead.

Rolling her eyes at him, Ariana pointed at herself. "Look at me! I'm wearing…a tunic and leggings are not acceptable! I'm not in a dress, they're going to _know _something's not right!"

He chuckled, and Ariana stared. How was he laughing? This was a _huge _problem! She knew she'd forgotten something major!

"That's easy," Murtagh grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Here." With a fluid, graceful movement of his arms, he swung off his cloak and in an instant had fastened it at her neck. The warm black covering fell so as to cover her entirely from the clavicle down, and pooled at her feet. It was too long, and he was smirking at her. She looked ridiculous and they both knew it.

Ariana grasped its folds, about to shorten it with magic, when Murtagh grabbed his wrist.

"Don't shorten it," he warned.

"Why?"

"Trust me."

She eyed him suspiciously at that, but his face was impassive. "What are you –"

"Just play along," Murtagh ordered, his eyes fixed on the darkening sky. "We're going to be cutting it too close, they're bound to ask questions. I'll do the talking. Now let's go!" The last words were nearly a shout, and he bounded off, moving like a gazelle loping over familiar territory. But Ariana had to lift his heavy cloak in both hands as she ran, and even then the silky smooth folds kept slipping through her fingers, tripping her at every step. She saw Murtagh stop at the crest of the hill and look back at her, but his expression was in shadow. He was silhouetted against the setting sun, and for a moment she admired his tall, slender, strong figure, the hair blowing back lightly in the breeze. And then she tripped.

"Curse this stupid cloak!" Staggering to her feet, fighting not to trip over the idiotically overlong material, Ariana glared at the ground. Why hadn't he let her shrink it? This was _exactly _why she avoided dresses if she could help it. She'd never really learned to maneuver properly in them. And those stupid heeled shoes that were definitely torture devices in very poor disguise…

Suddenly the ground spun around her again as her feet left it, and Ariana shrieked in surprise. "Sorry," Murtagh muttered in her ear, and she realized with a blush that he'd lifted her bodily off the ground, and was now running, with her in his arms, over the next hill.

"Put me down!" she demanded, before realizing how rude she sounded. "I mean – I can run, it's okay, you don't have to –"

"You call that running? I saw you, you kept tripping," he said, not even panting from the uphill climb. How was he in such good shape? _Riders_, she thought, shaking her head.

"It's not my fault your cloak is too long! You wouldn't let me shrink it!"

"It's one of my favorites, and what if you did it irreversible damage?" Murtagh was scowling, she could hear it in his voice. But Ariana didn't turn her head to see, because that would put their faces entirely too close…his chin was currently above her head, which was resting – no, simply near – his neck, her arms holding to his shoulders to keep her body from falling away from his. She was praying to every deity she could think of that he couldn't feel her heartbeat pounding like a frightened rabbit's.

"You didn't have to give it to me then."

"We couldn't let you walk in wearing _that_."

"The gates!" She nearly screamed, pointing straight ahead. Two guards had begun to pull the large black gates shut, and Murtagh sped up, practically flying towards them.

"Wait!" He shouted, authority suffusing his voice, and the guards looked up and paused, waiting for him to run down the hill. Panting, he stopped at the gates, letting Ariana slide down from his arms, his chest heaving.

She watched him, confused. He hadn't been panting this hard while running…

"Are you alright?" she asked softly, putting a hand on his arm. It was the right move, apparently.

Murtagh nodded, straightening up. "Sorry," he apologized to the guards, his voice breathless. It gave her goosebumps.

"You cut it close, boy," the older one said gruffly. "What were you two doing out there anyway?"

Ariana bit her lip. She didn't see how they were going to get out of this one, but she kept her mouth shut. Hopefully he'd known what he was doing when he'd said he would do the talking.

His arm slid around her, his fingers grasping her waist familiarly, and Ariana felt a hot blush shoot up her neck and cheeks, and lowered her eyes, not wanting to meet the gaze of any man there.

"Lost track of the time," she heard Murtagh say through her buzzing ears, and blushed darker. Well, if that was the impression he wanted to make, all the blushing was going to work just fine.

"Next time, miss, take a cloak with you," the second guard advised, turning to her. "It gets pretty chilly out there in the evenings, and you don't want him falling sick, now do you?" He winked at her and chuckled, and Ariana nodded, giving him a small smile before leaning into Murtagh's side. She felt his breath hitch and grinned to herself.

"But don't stay out so late next time, laddie," the white-haired guard warned. "You know what they're saying…"

Murtagh had no idea, but he decided it was best to play along, as he'd told Ariana, so he nodded wisely. "We won't, I promise." He looked down at the hooded top of Ariana's head – he was glad she'd covered her standout hair – and smiled, pulling her in closer and smirking when she squeaked in surprise. "I'd love to stand and talk, gentlemen, but I've got to get her home. Her father's going to have my head on a plate if we don't hurry."

The guards laughed and waved them on in, and Murtagh kept his grip on the girl's waist firm as he steered her into the city.

"Do you know where you're going?" Ariana asked, looking up at him.

"Nope, but I'd bet they're watching us," Murtagh responded, keeping his eyes on the streets, "So I'm pretending. Where do we need to go?"

Ariana paused, trying to remember, and suddenly yelped, "Left!"

Startled by her sudden shriek, Murtagh promptly steered them both right.

"No, Murt – the other left!" Ariana groaned, stopping herself from blurting out his name in the middle of the street.

Muttering obscenities under his breath, Murtagh walked down to the end of the street before making an about turn and hurrying the other way, slowing his speed only after they were walking down the street she'd indicated. "Where now?"

"Keep going," she murmured, "And take the second left." Ariana guided them both through the dizzying streets, thankful that her cousin lived in the wealthier section of the city. She'd been in the other, and it was…shocking, to say the least. But she knew the shortcuts through the city that would keep them from the unsavory areas.

"It's the third house on the right," she said finally, as they emerged into the correct street.

"I'll knock," Murtagh offered, rapping on the door with his knuckles.

For a moment there was silence, and then the door opened. A tall young man stood in the doorway, with cobalt blue eyes and straight blond hair. Ariana frowned. She was positive this was the right house…so who was this? She could feel Murtagh's eyes boring holes into the back of her head, and suddenly paused, staring at the man before her. He was reached towards her, and with a quick movement had knocked back her hood. For a moment he stared at her hair, and then he reached out and hauled both her and Murtagh inside, shutting the door behind them and running his hand down the wood, murmuring something.

Ariana raised her eyebrows. He had pointed ears.

"Ariana!" a voice screamed, and she gasped as a sudden weight crashed into her from nowhere, strong arms hugging her tightly.

"Hi," Ariana mumbled into the woman's chest, her voice muffled. "I can't breathe, Kali."

"Sorry."

Ariana stepped back, grinning widely at her cousin. Kalimae had red hair too, but while Ariana's was a deep red, Kalimae's was a bright orange kind of red, and wildly curly. It was long, falling nearly to the middle of her back, and her grey-blue eyes were sparkling with laughter. "I missed you," Ariana confessed.

"You too, Ri," Kali smiled, and Ariana huffed.

"I hate that nickname."

"I know." Kali slapped a hand to her forehead suddenly. "Oh! I forgot to introduce you – this is my husband, Mason. Mason, this is Ri, I think you recognized her."

"It was the hair," Mason said, smiling and twisting his hand over his chest in the elvish gesture of fealty, which Ariana returned, both bowing slightly. "Kali warned me to check the hair."

"Mason?" Ariana said. "That's not a very…elvish name."

He shrugged. "We thought it'd be best, since we're living here." And he offered no further explanation.

Ariana saw Murtagh skulking in the shadows, and saw Kali's eyes on her overlarge cloak, which had clearly been crafted for a tall male, and sighed. This was not going to go well. Her heart in her mouth, she stepped over to Murtagh and put her hand on his elbow, pulling him into the light. "Kali, Mason, this is –"

"Murtagh." Mason's voice was nearly a growl, and Murtagh stiffened. Ariana knew he was gripping Zar'roc, and panicked internally.

"Mason," Kali said in a warning tone. "Ariana, what –"

"He saved my life," Ariana said, willing her voice to stay polite, and feeling it get slightly out of hand anyway. "I would be dead if it wasn't for him. Mason, you don't know him! He's a good guy, he's just had…a tough life."

"I don't want to be rude," Mason said in a challenging tone, "But Ariana, the risks of –"

"If he leaves," Ariana said, her voice shaking, "So do I."

"This is not a good idea," Kali said, and Ariana stared at her. She could feel Murtagh shaking, and knew he was moments away from blowing up. "Did you two have to come here now? Do you know what's happening in two days?"

"That's what we came to find out," Ariana said. "We ran into a group of soldiers sent to find and kill Murtagh, and –"

"Nasuada and Orrin will be here in two days' time," Mason said quietly. "We think they're coming to formally announce their betrothal to the city, even though they already made the announcement from Ilirea."

Murtagh froze.

"Something isn't right, though," Kali said. "Mason and I – we're here because something is…growing. There's a presence here that shouldn't be, I just don't know what it is!"

There was silence, except for Murtagh's ragged breathing. Ariana squeezed his motionless arm, unsure what to say.

"Maybe a Rider would be useful," Mason said finally, breaking the quiet. Ariana gaped at him, and he gave her a small smile. "I'm not going to turn you two out now, as long as – Kali?"

"I was hoping you'd say that," Kali grinned, and Mason gave her a quick kiss before looking over at Murtagh.

"You've got blood on your sleeve," Mason observed. "Come on. You're only a little shorter than me – I think some of my things will fit you."

"Thank you," Murtagh said, his tone clipped. Without further comment, he followed Mason from the room.

"I'll take you up in a bit," Kalimae said, flopping down onto the couch with a sigh, "But I think we'll let them get everything figured out first. I just hope Mason doesn't chew him out too badly."

"Will he?"

"He's not comfortable with Murtagh," Kali said, "But he'll try. If he didn't trust your word on him, he wouldn't have let him stay. It's just hard, to see Morzan's son walk into your living room."

"He is not his father," Ariana hissed, making her cousin flinch.

"I know, but…" Kali sighed. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"So," Ariana said, "You got married without me?"

Kali winced. "I wanted to call you, but I didn't know where you were and…it was very private," she said, her voice subdued.

Ariana waited.

"We did it in secret," the curly-haired elf confessed finally. "His family was decimated in the war, and the few left didn't approve, and so we –"

"It's alright," Ariana said hurriedly, seeing tears beginning to form in the elf's eyes. Pausing for a heartbeat, she flung herself across and hugged Kalimae tightly. "Congratulations!" she shrieked.

"Thanks," Kali laughed, hugging her back. Ariana moved back to the opposite couch, plucking up a cushion to hug tightly. Kali leaned forward, grinning wickedly. "So, I think you have some things to tell me."

Ariana kicked off her boots, drawing her bare feet up onto the couch opposite Kali. "What things?" She didn't care for that smirk at all – it was Kali's scheming face.

"I saw the way he looked at you when you had that hand on his arm," Kali said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"What?" Ariana's cheeks were getting hot, and she squeezed the plushy pillow tightly, avoiding her cousin's eyes.

Kali giggled. "I'm pretty sure Murtagh would have either attacked Mason or attempted to leave if you hadn't been holding on to him. He was staring at you like nothing else existed."

"He was just in shock that Nasuada's coming in a few days," Ariana said, helpless to combat the blush that shot through her. Had he really stared like that?

"So is it true? The rumors about them?" Kali asked, her voice hushed.

Hesitating, Ariana nodded, relaxing a little when Kali mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key.

"But are you really going to tell me you don't like him at all?" Kali waggled her eyebrows. "You can't just walk in here with a pretty attractive young man and tell me you don't feel anything. How long have you been with him anyway? And why?"

"Kali!" They heard Mason shout from upstairs. "Shall we put them in the guest rooms on the third floor?"

"Yes!" she shouted back.

"Third floor?" Ariana raised her eyebrows.

"You aren't afraid of heights, are you?" Kali teased. "Come on, I'll get you something to change into. Get some sleep. But I expect you to spill all the beans tomorrow."

Half an hour later, Ariana shut the door behind her, stepping inside her room. The house was dark below her – their hosts had gone to bed. Murtagh was in the room on her left, but the door had been shut when she'd come up the stairs, teetering under a huge pile of clothes that Kali had dumped on her. Tossing them onto the bed, Ariana picked Murtagh's cloak off the top. Wadding it into a ball, she padded out into the hall and turned the handle on his door.

It was unlocked, and swung open silently. The room was dark except for a few candles, and it took Ariana's eyes a few moments to adjust to the dim lighting.

She stared, vaguely conscious of her jaw dropping.

**A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONEEEEE :D**


	7. Voices

**A/N: Ahem. Yes. I'm back. I know, I know – I am so sorry for not updating in so long! I am ashamed, really. Well, a little. I started a new story, as some of you know, and I am having a blast writing it, so this one is now on the back burner. I'm going to do my best to update this whenever I can, but it might not be as regular now. Besides, school is a killer. Anyway, thank you so much everyone who reviewed this story! You guys are the only reason I came back to it. I would have forgotten about it if not for you all. This chapter is for you – I'm sorry it's so short and not very good, but I just wanted to update after leaving it alone for so long. **

Voices

A giant, jagged white scar stretched across Murtagh's bare back, from his left shoulder to his right hip, illuminated in the dim light. The sheer cruelty of the mark stunned her – how on earth had he received it? Was this how Galbatorix had broken him, forced him to serve the twisted king? Tortured him, torn his back upon, nearly killed him? But it held her attention for barely a moment.

Blood. It was dripping steadily to the floor. She could smell it. She could hear every drop as it splashed against the wooden floor. With a thud, Murtagh slammed the window shut, his breathing heavy and loud and erratic, leaving the windowpane smeared with red from the palm he had slapped against his chest. He was shirtless – his old tunic was on the bed, a red one on the bedpost – but he had collapsed to the floor.

Ariana gasped. A dagger was sticking out of his chest, and the hand he had pressed to the wound was doing nothing to help.

Muttering a few spells as she dropped to her knees beside him, Ariana locked and soundproofed the room, adding a few wards to the house for good measure as she pried his fingers off his chest, steeling herself and jerking the dagger out of his body.

Murtagh screamed, his body twitching in pain, and she recoiled as blood spurted everywhere. Bending forward, she put pressure on the wound, murmuring a spell of healing, feeling the magic drain her. Concentrating, she forced away the disgust she always felt at the touch of blood and pushed her palm flat against his chest, forcing the magic out from her palm into his body, hissing instructions to the most arcane part of herself through the ancient language. But suddenly she noticed something.

No matter how much energy she poured into him, how many times she recited her spell, the wound refused to close. The skin around it was darkening worryingly, the blood was refusing to coagulate, and case in point, he would not heal. Snarling with a combination of anger and panic, Ariana changed the spell, but soon discovered that even if she morphed multiple spells together, she couldn't help him.

It was taking too much from her – she collapsed in a weakly sitting position beside him, her limbs trembling, realizing, the knowledge tainted with dread, that her magic was taking no effect – he was lying there, gasping for breath, while the wound turned black, the blood refusing to clot and still flowing freely.

Poison, of course. But which? Ariana racked her brain, but although she tried various spells, remedies for different venoms, none had any effect, and the blood was pooling around his prone form, soaking into her skin, hampering her very ability to breathe as it clogged the airways inside her. He couldn't die now. Why did she care? She didn't have any answer, and didn't care. There was no time to find one. _Just don't die._ _Please_.

_I need to see the blade! _Thorn smashed through her mental walls in seconds, and Ariana hissed as he took over her body, turning her head so she was looking at the dagger, picking it up, smelling it. The dragon cursed.

_What is it? _

_ It's a combination_, Thorn snarled. _Seithr oil and poisons and magic. _

Ariana didn't bother asking how he knew. It was enough that he did. Besides, he had a connection to Murtagh – he could probably piece the symptoms together. _How do we heal it? _

_ Combine spells, _he said curtly.

Murtagh gave a choking wheeze, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

For a moment, Ariana sensed a torrent of paralyzing pain and fear from Thorn, before he cut it off abruptly, and instead began feeding her lines of the ancient language. Ariana began repeating his words, trusting the dragon to know what he was doing – there was no time to double-check the spell he was inventing. Murtagh would die if they did – he might die anyway.

Suddenly she stiffened as Thorn invaded her mind – completely. She had no control over her body, even though he poured enough energy into her to still her tremors of exhaustion. Ariana fought the panic, hoping he wouldn't hurt her. She sensed regret from him, but more than that, there was kindness.

Thorn, she soon discovered, knew exactly what he was doing. The wound was stitching up as a the ancient language flowed past her lips like a song, the dragon firmly controlling her body as he spoke through her mouth, his magic guiding hers. She could feel the red dragon's desperation pounding against the few barriers still separating his mind from hers, but she did her best to ignore it. The moment either of them openly panicked, the spell would most likely be broken – and Murtagh would definitely die. He was clinging to life by a thread as it was.

A long while later, Thorn withdrew slightly from her, and Ariana felt her muscles tighten and strengthen as he gifted her some of his formidable reserves of energy. _He will live. _

_ I'm glad, _Ariana responded tiredly, passing her hand over her brown, wiping away the perspiration beaded there, her breast heaving, casting her eyes anywhere but at Murtagh. She didn't want to look…but his still body drew her eyes like a mangled corpse; it forcibly dragged her eyes towards it, against her will.

He was pale, so pale. But the blood was already returning to his cheeks, and the gash on his chest had faded so a thin white line, which would either scar or vanish completely – Ariana wasn't sure how thorough Thorn's spell had been. If it scarred, Murtagh could always remove it later. Something occurred to her suddenly, and she snatched up the bloodied dagger, her lip curling as a drop of liquid scarlet slid over the back of her hand, hot against her skin. The handle was of simple wood, probably walnut, with no engravings or anything else to distinguish it. Holding it near her face, Ariana sniffed the blade, trying to discern a tell-tale whiff of poison amidst the reek of blood. But she caught nothing, and snapped her fingers at one of the candles on the nightstand. _Brisingr_.

She tilted the blade against the light, crossing over to it, her mind working furiously. Who had thrown it? The window was shut, and she didn't bother glancing outside. The assassin would not be waiting pleasantly outside the window, desiring to be caught…But she was no ordinary girl, was she? A quick glance at Murtagh – he was stirring slightly, would probably awaken soon. Thorn could fill him in. She folded the dagger in against her clothes, thankful she hadn't changed into a dress yet.

The window slid open soundlessly and Ariana swung herself out onto the rooftop, taking a deep breath before dropping down, her hand catching the sill of a window one story below. The night blurred as she let herself fall again, curling and rolling as she hit the ground to break her fall. The air was bitingly cold, and Ariana pressed herself against the wall, thankful for the shadow of the house that cloaked her in darkness. This was Dras-Leona. A single moment of complacency could prove to be her last moment alive.

Her eyes flitting around, adjusting rapidly to the barely-lit streets, she scampered across the street, hiding in the shadows as she moved, something that years of practice had made second-nature to her. It was in bright light that she was most uncomfortable – darkness and crowds meant safety. It meant she was harder to identify, if she covered her hair. It meant she was hidden.

Moments later she paused, finding herself staring down a much narrower, twisting street. A groan fought against her closed lips, dying inside her mouth as she pressed them together tightly, knowing better than to make a single sound. Ariana knew where she was. The unsavory part of the city – this was where the poor, the outcasts lived. And the most dangerous. But her clues were vanishing fast – although their visitor had taken care not to leave footprints, they had left traces. Not careful enough, Ariana thought wryly as her eyes skipped from one path of disturbed dust to a small whorl of dirt about the length of an average-sized man's stride away.

Without warning, a hand clapped over her mouth, and Ariana twisted, driving her elbow into a sternum behind her, whirling around and raising her dagger. But the blow never fell. Instead, she found herself pushed back into the wall, staring into a familiar pair of narrowed steely eyes.

"What are you _doing?" _Murtagh hissed, looking very much as if he hadn't lain dying on the floor of his room five minutes ago.

"How can you even stand?" Ariana whispered back, her eyes raking over his form. He had, mercifully, put on the red tunic she'd seen on his bed – if he'd been shirtless she probably wouldn't have been able to concentrate. He was holding himself erect, and the rise and fall of his chest was even, his muscles mostly relaxed. He didn't appear to be in pain or even any minor discomfort.

"Thorn," he muttered, his eyes leaving her to search the streets for movement. She nodded in understanding, knowing that he couldn't see. The dragon must have flooded him with energy until he felt ready to burst. Those gray eyes swiveled back to hers, and Ariana swallowed as she recognized the flicker of emotion in them before he hid it. He was _angry_.

"What are you doing out here?" he repeated, his eyes boring holes into her head as if he was trying to break into her mind. But he wasn't. She would have felt it.

"Looking," she mumbled, turning away from him to examine the street she was going to head into.

Hissing with irritation, Murtagh swung himself around her, so that his body was blocking her view, forcing her to look at him. "At this time of night? Are you insane? Do you even remember where we are?"

"Yes," she snapped. "Now will you go back? You've already nearly died once tonight. Let's not do it again, alright? Just go back, and don't mention this to anyone. I'll be back by dawn."

"Like hell," he growled. "You see that?" Murtagh motioned to the miniscule disturbances on the streets that she had been following, their enhanced vision able to pick up on the tiniest detail, even in the dark. "That is the trail of someone who wants me dead. I _will _follow it."

"Then I'm coming with you," Ariana said quietly, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. _Don't leave me behind_.

His eyes were unfathomable, but Murtagh didn't argue with her again. Instead, he whispered two words. "Thank you." She nodded in response, not sure what to say. And he didn't wait for her to figure it out.

Silently, he turned into the street, motioning for her to walk by his side. Ariana obliged, watching him move out of the corner of her eye. The moonlight barely penetrated the dank streets of this accursed city, but even in darkness she could not deny that this young man beside her was beautiful. There was something about the way he held himself, the way his every movement, whether calculated or not, was smooth, fluid, perpetually graceful. Looking at him hurt, because she knew that she had no right to feel the way she did. They barely knew each other, and had come together only through loss and pain. She knew that soon he would leave her behind – he was a Rider, and she was nobody. But in the recesses of her mind, in those dark places where no one could ever overhear the words she murmured to herself, afraid to speak them aloud lest they lose their beauty, Ariana was terrified that the way her heart trembled whenever he was near would morph into something more. In a sort of dull surprise, she realized that she hadn't recalled Orrin's face in nearly a day – a definite improvement.

She was torn from her introspection as the streets narrowed farther, and Murtagh ducked around to walk behind her, so close she thought she could feel his body breathing behind her. They wound through the city, stepping over the bodies of sleeping outcasts, Ariana blinking away a few tears at their plight. The next time she thought her own life was a travesty, she would think of the people she was seeing here. Men, women, children…all out in streets, in the cold, unprotected, many deformed, all poor. There were no elderly here. Life, for them, was a luxury. No one survived long enough to be old.

Suddenly she realized that Murtagh was no longer behind her, and Ariana turned to see him kneeling down, slipping a few coins beneath a sleeping child's head, resting his palm on the child's brow and murmuring something. Her heart tightened as she watched him. She'd heard the tales of him – a man as cruel and merciless as his father, a man with no heart, a monster who thirsted only for power, who knew only how to kill. She had believed those lying tongues. And at this moment she hated herself for it. The sorrow in his face wrenched at her painfully, and she worked to hide it as the straight planes of his body realigned as he stood erect. Without making a single comment, he walked up to her, taking the lead.

It was only when the oppressive streets melted away that Ariana took a breath – and it came as a gasp. A huge, ornate building loomed up before them. She knew what it was. A structure this grandiose at the center of the city. This was the home of whatever government had deluded itself into thinking it held power in this nest of injustice and cruelty.

Murtagh's mouth was a set line, his tall slash of a body tensed, his eyes roving over the building.

"That window," Ariana said softly, her lips barely moving, pointing with a single finger to a window through whose closed curtains a light was glowing. He nodded, a sharp motion of assent, and they tilted their heads back, both wondering how best to enter. The inside was not an option. They would be surrounded in moments.

"The building is warded," Murtagh murmured, positioning himself close to her so that she could hear his barely audible whispers. And feel his breath on her neck. "Give me a few minutes. Thorn and I can remove the ones on the outside up to that window."

It took him more than a few minutes, as it turned out. The frustration manifested itself in lines on his brow and in the tightening corners of his finely carved mouth, but finally he relaxed slightly. "Think you can climb up?"

Ariana scoffed. "Of course I can! What do you think I've been doing all these years?" His face twisted in pity, but she ignored it. They were her demons, not his – and she could handle them. "Can you?"

A flash of humor in his eyes was his only response.

Murtagh insisted on going first, so Ariana let him choose the best places to grasp the tiny cracks between the bricks. Whoever had constructed the building had been incredibly lazy. Cracks and crevices abounded, making for excellent handholds – and when necessary, they used magic to jump up a few extra feet, occasionally using chimneys or even windowsills to hoist themselves up.

Murtagh pulled himself up to the windowsill, which was uncommonly wide, his slender body crouching on the jutting slab of wood. Ariana hung onto it by her fingertips, watching as he closed his eyes, trying to ascertain if the room was empty. He shook his head, and mouthed a word. Two.

Ariana nodded, and jerked her chin towards the window. She wasn't going to hang out here and freeze to death. Better to take their chances with whoever was inside. And, knowing their luck, she had a hunch.

"Wait!" Ariana hissed as Murtagh raised a palm to break through the window. Drawing on her own magic, she let the spells fly from her lips, making sure that whatever happened inside the room would not be audible to anyone outside it – and that the door itself was locked as securely as it could be. She knew some fantastically intricate locking spells. Silver eyes met her own as she gave him a tiny smile.

Murtagh raised his palm, and the window swung open silently, voices spilling out over them, Ariana's safety net of spells preventing the night air from jostling the curtains even slightly. Even as she saw Murtagh's angular body go rigid, Ariana felt her heart begin to pump erratically in her own breast. She knew those voices. This was not going to go well at all.

**A/N: I'll try to update again soon! And please leave a few comments!**

**CC xxx**


	8. Truth and Lies

**A/N: I am so so so sorry. I know this was forever and a day, and I do apologize! It's just that I have another story in the works, which is receiving far more of a response than this one, so I've been spending a bit more time on that. And I had exams, which are over now! So here is the next chapter. THANK YOU so much to those of you who reviewed last chapter! The only reason I wrote this one is because you guys let me know you were still interested, and thank you for taking the time to review! This is especially for you. And also thank you everyone still reading, I appreciate your interest :)**

Chapter 8: Truth and Lies

Twisting his upper body in the cramped crouch he was in, Murtagh stared down at her, his breath coming in puffs of mist, one following rapidly after another. She couldn't see his eyes, his entire face was in shadow, but Ariana knew they would be alight with panic. Glancing down, she hissed out a curse. The guards were changing below them, and judging from the way several were simply milling around instead of leaving, the ground wouldn't clear of people for minutes, if they were lucky.

They had to go in. Or risk being seen. Ariana would have entered first, but she was hanging onto the windowsill by the barest tips of her fingers, and her hands were quickly numbing with cold and pain. She couldn't stay in this position forever – but there was no room for her unless Murtagh moved.

He was still watching her, and Ariana realized suddenly that his mind seemed to have shut down. Chances were that he was talking to Thorn, but if he waited another moment she was going to fall. And that was when she realized exactly how idiotic their behavior had been this night. He had nearly died and then insisted on running around as if he was perfectly healthy, magic be damned. She had wandered outside in this godforsaken city alone, aware that she hadn't the faintest clue where she was going. And now they had both scaled a tower without a way in or out, and on top of that Murtagh had found himself sitting outside the two people in the world that he didn't know how to respond to. Excellent.

Of course Orrin would choose that moment to notice there was someone outside the window. No doubt his harsh whisper detailing his discovery of "an assassin on the ledge" was meant for Nasuada's ears only, but Murtagh and Ariana's superior hearing caught the words as clearly as if he had been standing beside them. And it jolted Murtagh out of his shock.

In seconds he had leaped into the room, and for one moment Ariana admired the way his body readjusted itself to everything – she saw him duck his head to fit his tall frame through the window, one hand out to shove a heavy curtain to the side, his legs extending and bending to catch him as he fell, and his back straightening rapidly even as he stood slightly and then dropped into a crouch. A blade whizzed past Murtagh's ear and Ariana hissed, swinging herself up onto the ledge he had vacated, catching it in the flat of her palm. An extra weapon was always useful. But she took a moment to be grateful that the knife had not caught its target – Orrin was an accomplished knife-thrower, she knew that.

Sliding silently across to huddle on the other side of the windowsill, she waited. If Murtagh had already gone in, she would wait on the outside. In the event that a fight broke out between the three, her presence would afford a far greater advantage as the element of surprise. But if she was being honest with herself, Ariana admitted that she was really hiding out in the cold because she didn't want to see their faces again.

That didn't stop her from listening in on what was _bound _to be an interesting conversation – or a full-blown dogfight. By leaning in just slightly, she could even get a reasonably good look into the room.

They were all perfectly silent. She could only hear Nasuada's heavy breathing, and Ariana's lips tightened as she got a good look at the young ruler. Nasuada had, if possible, become even more beautiful than when Ariana had last seen her. She looked worried, but the expression suited her, lending a melancholy glow to her eyes and a barely perceptible downward curve to the tips of her mouth. Orrin, on the other hand, appeared to be anything but worried. He was eyeing Murtagh triumphantly, and Ariana felt her stomach twist. She hated that look. It was the one Orrin wore whenever he was confident that he had won in some way. But Murtagh could handle him, he'd handled so much worse, he should be okay…Her thoughts broke off as the silence did too.

"Murtagh?" Nasuada's rich, low voice filled the room, and Ariana watched as Murtagh tensed, she could see his neck and shoulders and back tightening. Tendons in his wrist straining, although his fingers remained limply relaxed by his side. Too much in control to make any obvious moves, not in enough control to completely obliterate his body's reactions. A relic of his time spent with Galbatorix.

And then he relaxed again, his breathing remaining even throughout those few moments of physical consternation. Ariana, however, did not loosen her deathlike grip on the dagger in her hand.

"I told you he would turn himself in," Orrin gloated, turning to face Nasuada – but Ariana noted that his eyes never left Murtagh. "What happened, spawn of Morzan? Darkness become a little too dark for you? We all know you're a coward," he hissed suddenly, his face drawn with a desperate hate Ariana had never seen in his eyes, "But where are they?"

Murtagh was silent, and motionless. Scarcely daring to breathe, lest they should hear her, Ariana straightened her spine, tensing the muscles in her thighs, ready to jump in.

"What am I accused of now?" Murtagh's voice was deep, a growl, and she felt the very blood in her veins tremble with sympathy to his resonant baritone. Clearly, he was furious.

"As if you don't know," Orrin spat, stepping closer to the irate Rider. Ariana bit her lower lip, chewing furiously. Trying to think, which was impossible, because something else was distracting her. Nasuada's expression. It was one that Ariana had seen so oft in her own mirror that she couldn't pretend not to understand it now.

Longing.

Nasuada was looking at _Murtagh _that way. Ariana's hand, the one holding the dagger, twitched slightly. How dare she? A shaking breath forced its way past her trembling lips, and Ariana froze instantly. They had heard her gasp of fury. Without waiting, she dropped from the ledge into the position she had been before, hanging on by her fingernails. Hoping no one would open the window and look down.

The voices floated out towards her again – Murtagh's nearly buried by Orrin's suddenly furious shouting, and Nasuada was lending her own to the din. Gasping for breath, Ariana leaned back as much as she could and swung herself towards the tower, pushing off it with her feet a few times so she was swinging in the air, using that momentum to then flip herself up and back onto the ledge. And now it was Nasuada who was shouting.

"– and just never came back! How could you expect anyone to wait? And now this? Does this make you angry enough to murder innocents by the hundreds? Women? Children?" She hissed in disgust, and Orrin stepped in.

"You can rest assured justice will be done," he snarled, "But we won't do it quickly. What's the need? Oh yes, _Rider_, I can think of a hundred ways to make you scream. And when you do die, it will take you days. I promise." The sound of a sword being drawn made Ariana raise her head. But she didn't need to go in – Murtagh was such a skilled swordsman that he wouldn't need her assistance.

It took her about thirty seconds to realize she was wrong. Thirty crucial seconds. Because Murtagh did not react at all, not even when a blade plunged through his body – for the second time in barely hours. It was Ariana who screamed as the cold metal touched his skin. And it was Ariana who retaliated.

In seconds she realized her second mistake: she had gone up against a sword with a dagger. There was a second inside her clothes, pressing its cold blade up against her skin, but it would be no use. Nasuada had not yet entered the fray, but Ariana wasn't fooled by her relaxed stance and heavy velvet dress. If Nasuada chose to be a committed enemy, she, too, would be a formidable one.

But for now, Orrin's shock at her appearance gave her the advantage. Ramming a kick into his ribs, leaving him doubled over and gasping for air, Ariana dropped by Murtagh's side, exhaling with relief when she found the wound. His fingers were over it, his palm already glowing, and while it was bleeding, it was a shoulder wound. Nothing serious. He could heal it himself.

Instead, she deftly freed Zar'roc from his belt and hefted the sword, dropping the knife Orrin had thrown against his leg. She was no good with knives, better to take her chances with the heavy sword, despite the fact that its hand-and-a-half grip was too large for her, and that her muscles strained to lift it. She rarely won a fight with a knife, especially up against someone as talented with them as Orrin.

"What are you doing here?" It was Nasuada who had spoken, and Ariana stared at her. And then she gave a short bark of derisive laughter.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

Orrin scowled. "I cannot ask either of you to –"

Ariana leveled her sword at him, narrowing her eyes to catlike slits, lowering her voice to a deadly whisper. "Quiet." She heard a soft rustle and an intake of breath behind her, and knew Murtagh was getting fluidly to his feet. "What do you hold him responsible for?" She directed the question at Nasuada, who flinched ever so slightly.

"Murder," Orrin snapped, and Ariana hated the way she could see that he was enjoying this. Branding the only friend she had, if indeed he was one, a murderer. Without any proof either way.

"You cannot verify what you –"

"You know what he has done before as well as I!" Orrin exclaimed, glaring daggers at the man behind her. "If he could do it before, he certainly can do it again!"

Pig. Insolent, hateful, angry, blind – she couldn't think of enough words to call him. Especially because not so long ago, she would have fallen for the argument he was making. And it disgusted her that she could once have believed such slander, without even getting to know the man before condemning him.

Furious, she stormed up to Orrin, until they were barely a hand's breadth apart, and growled out the first few words that came to mind. "Are you drunk?"

Pain exploded in the side of her face, and without warning the ground came rushing up to meet her, hard, bruising her ribs and elbow as she crashed into it, her head throbbing as she tried to understand. And when she did, when the pain had subsided enough for her to figure it out, Ariana felt sick. Looking up didn't help.

Weapons forgotten, Murtagh and Orrin locked in a brutal fistfight, the blows they landed upon each other impacting with a gruesome thudding sound. They were snarling at each other, but Ariana sluggishly realized that something was very far amiss. She had forgotten the fourth person in the room.

The murmur of Nasuada's voice was soft, and when combined with the growling emitting from the Rider and king and her own stunned senses, Ariana found that it prevented her from hearing a single word the queen uttered. But her vision was, thankfully, unimpaired, and the sight of what Nasuada stood before froze the very marrow in her bones.

A scrying mirror. Nasuada had no doubt tried the door and discovered it was locked – if she had assumed that Murtagh had cast the spell, she would know that she had no chance whatsoever of opening it. She could never overcome a spell cast by a Rider. Instead, she had gone for something neither of them had expected.

Staggering to her feet, Ariana raised her hand, focusing on the mirror. Nasuada was quite clever – she had tilted the surface so that only she could see who she was communicating with. Very clever. The power swelled inside Ariana, and her voice sounded furious and so unlike her own as she shrieked, "Jierda!"

With a satisfying crack, the mirror shattered, and Nasuada jumped back, glaring at her with unbridled anger. Suddenly Ariana found the discomfiting weight of Zar'roc more comforting than anything else. She was armed, and that was better than looking into those rage-filled eyes alone. But despite it all, she felt a grudging respect for Nasuada. The queen was barely a few years older than Ariana, and yet she had already proved herself to be far more resourceful – and the possessor of a far more commanding presence. It was no wonder she was a monarch.

"What have you done?" Ariana demanded, stepping closer to her, ducking to avoid Orrin's fist even as Murtagh blocked the blow and flung his body forward towards the sandy-haired man. "Who did you speak with?"

Nasuada lifted her chin, a move Ariana thought unnecessary, since she was much shorter than the queen anyway. No need to emphasize that any more. "I do not know who you are, but you cannot escape. You may as well drop the sword. There are others coming, others you cannot hope to defeat."

Ariana tucked her hair behind her ear in response, watching Nasuada's eyes widen as she caught sight of her pointy ear. "Do not be so sure," she warned, enjoying the flash of shock in Nasuada's eyes before it vanished within their depths.

"I am," was the confident rejoinder. "You may not be weak, but you will be outnumbered and far less powerful than those coming to join me."

"Who?" Ariana scoffed. "An elf or two? What do you think I am? And do you honestly believe that they can defeat _him_?" She pointed at Murtagh, but did a double take when she saw what he was doing. His back to her and Nasuada, Murtagh had slammed Orrin against the wall and was punching him repeatedly, anywhere he could reach. Blood was trickling from Orrin's mouth and he hung limply in Murtagh's grip, deathly pale.

"Stop!" Nasuada shouted, pushing past Ariana and seizing Murtagh's wrist in her hand. "Let him go!" Murtagh paused, letting his wrist rest in the circle of her fingers, his chest heaving as he looked down at her. "Let him go," Nasuada repeated, more softly this time. "Your quarrel is not with him, it is with me. Let him go. And help me understand why…why you did this."

Murtagh stared at her for a moment, and then the fingers of his left hand released Orrin, who slid down to the floor, unconscious, bleeding. Closing her eyes, Ariana took three deep breaths, ignoring the pain pounding through her head, trying to block the image of a broken, bleeding Orrin from her mind. Even though he had struck her, behaved so abominably, she knew that deep down some part of her still loved him. Still couldn't bear to see him hurt.

When Murtagh spoke, his voice was so low that Ariana couldn't distinguish a single word from its deep rumble. In a way it made sense that he would want to speak only for Nasuada's ears, but it also hurt that he didn't trust her enough to share his words with her. Orrin didn't count – he was, after all, still unconscious. But Ariana could see that his wounds were serious.

Avoiding Murtagh and Nasuada, who were engaged in a heated but still quiet conversation, Ariana dropped to her knees beside Orrin, fury boiling in her gut when she saw what Murtagh had done. Wanting to cause his enemy the most pain he could, he had succeeded. Suddenly she understood why Orrin was so determined to believe that Murtagh was capable of cold-blooded cruelty. It was because the dark-haired Rider was more than capable of it. He was a master of it.

There were only a few wounds on Orrin's body, but the ones that did exist were bruises, mottled black, blue, and purple. And most of them had broken open, stained red with his blood. Murtagh had systematically chosen one spot after another, spending minutes just beating that one area to pulp with his bare hands before moving onto the next. It wasn't fair! He knew perfectly well that he was far stronger than any human, even a well-trained one! How could he take advantage of his abilities, breaking Orrin to the point of death? Leaving him unconscious was one this, but wounds this serious…she could already see more than one broken bone. Wincing as her eyes skimmed over the damage, Ariana made her decision. She had made it long before approaching him.

Pressing her fingers against the battered body of the man she had once hoped to wed, Ariana breathed out two words, watching his smooth, fair skin begin to knit itself together under her hands as the magic took effect upon both his body and hers, draining her of strength as it restored vitality to his.

Murtagh had done such a thorough job in assaulting Orrin that it took Ariana far longer than she had expected to heal him. When the last patch of broken skin oozing blood that she could find had been sealed, she could barely see straight, her limbs quivering as she struggled to stand. It wasn't until Murtagh gave a shout of shock that she made a concentrated effort to regain her senses.

"We have to go," he said urgently, grabbing her arm and propelling her towards the window, glancing contemptuously down at Orrin's prone form but not commenting. Ariana didn't miss the suddenly hatred-filled glare he shot at Nasuada, but she ignored it, trying to quash the little flare of hope in her breast. Just because he was temporarily angry at Nasuada didn't mean she would get a chance with him. Not that she wanted it. Not after seeing how mercilessly violent he could be, especially with such little provocation. Men like that were dangerous, not only to those around them, but to themselves. Sooner or later they destroyed everything they touched. They destroyed themselves.

"Don't try to run," Nasuada said calmly from behind them, as Murtagh stopped Ariana from tripping over her own boots. "Arya will be here with the others in moments, Murtagh. I've warned her to watch the ground as well. It will take you too long to climb to the bottom, and this girl doesn't appear to be in any condition to attempt the descent anyway." Her words rang oddly in Ariana's head, echoing. "You won't make it."

Murtagh gave a choked laugh. "Don't be so confident."

Ariana could barely follow the conversation. Her head was swimming, black spots dancing before her eyes, and she could see the darkness eating at the corners of her vision. She knew the signs. Soon her vision would be only darkness. Already she was depending almost fully on Murtagh's hands to keep her upright. But she couldn't afford to pass out now. He and she would both be captured if she did.

This entire misadventure had been folly, from start to finish.

She nearly missed what Murtagh said next. Nearly.

"I am a Rider," he said quietly. "I am not an elf or human, Nasuada. Half of me is a dragon. Remember that next time."

Without warning, the entire tower shook violently, and Ariana vaguely heard Nasuada scream as a large chunk of the wall was torn away. An even greater crash rocked the walls again, and this time the window and most of the wall beside it collapsed, letting large gusts of night air into the room. Ariana had never been so glad to see those ruby-red eyes in her life.

Nasuada yelled something, but Murtagh ignored her, lifting Ariana bodily and throwing her out of the window. She would have screamed, but Thorin was outside. He would never let her fall, and she knew it. So she flew threw the air, barely clearing the ruined remains of the wall before large curved claws closed around her, and Thorin dove down a few feet before driving his wings down to halt his fall, hovering in midair. Probably waiting for Murtagh to drop down onto his back.

The wind was howling in her ears, but even so Ariana heard Nasuada's voice, lifted high over the churning gale created by Thorn's heavily beating wings. It was a cry full of anger and denial and loss and pain, and Ariana felt pity for her, only momentarily. For then she remembered the hate in those beautiful jet-colored eyes, and she knew that Nasuada was as dangerous as she was intelligent. If she truly believed Murtagh to be the perpetrator of whatever crime, or murder, he was accused of, then she would not rest until she had brought him to justice. Whatever that meant.

The ground bled into the sky as Thorin angled his body, pumping his wings rapidly to gain altitude, and Ariana clung to his claws as the downdraft from his wings whirled her hair around her face, obscuring her vision – or whatever was left of it. She was suddenly so tired, too exhausted to even blink. As she dropped her head against the claw beneath it, she felt a presence tapping gently at her mind, requesting entry. Recognizing Thorin, she allowed him in, relaxing as he began feeding her tendrils of energy, letting sleep overcome her as her body recharged from the events of the night.

-:-

When she woke, Ariana was staring up at crossed wooden beams high above her. She blinked. Those were not at all familiar. Conscious of soft sheets pressing in on her, she lifted herself up on her elbow and recognized the spare room Kalimae had put her up in – was it only last night? A mortifying thought suddenly occurred to her, and Ariana hastily lifted up the sheets, relaxing when she realized she was still dressed in the tunic and leggings from the night before. Her boots lay flopped over on the ground beside the bed.

Yawning, Ariana lifted the sheets off her legs and padded barefoot across the room, sifting through the teetering pile of dresses Kali had given her. Her leggings and tunic were stained with Orrin's blood, and she didn't want to feel the terrible stickiness of those clothes against her skin any longer. Opening the knob of a door in her room, she stepped into a small washroom and slipped out of her clothes, letting them pool around her feet as she filled the large granite basin with water, heating it with a quick spell before sliding down into it.

Heaven. Ariana had forgotten how good a bath felt. The heat from the water soaked into her body, loosening her taut muscles, and when she ducked her head under the water, she could feel her hair floating languidly through the liquid. When her skin began to wrinkle, she reluctantly stepped out, vigorously drying herself off with a soft towel conveniently by the edge of the basin.

Ten minutes later she was before a mirror once again, turning from side to side uncomfortably. She hadn't worn a dress since that catastrophic night not too long ago, and wearing one now made her feel strangely nervous. It was a beautiful but simple dress, made of white chiffon, with a modest neckline that nevertheless left several inches of skin beneath her clavicle bare, and delicate lace sleeves that came down to just above her elbows. It was a bit long for her, since Kali was much taller, but Ariana carefully shortened it with a spell until it rested in graceful gathers at her feet. She ran her fingers experimentally through her still damp hair before noticing something. Leaning closer to the mirror, she frowned. Orrin had definitely hit her hard enough last night to leave a bruise, yet her skin was perfectly unblemished. She prodded the point of impact gingerly, remembering the blinding pain he had caused her, but there was nothing. Murtagh must have healed her. Momentarily she felt grateful; then she remembered the unnecessarily savage beating he had given Orrin and the feeling vanished. Turning sharply on her heel, neglecting to wear shoes, she left the room.

She found Kalimae in the study, poring over a map of the city, with a small pot of ink and a quill resting on a clean white blotting paper. "Sleep well?" Kali inquired, smiling as Ariana entered. "The dress suits you. Would you like to keep it?"

"Maybe." Reaching out, Ariana plucked a grape from the plate of fruit resting by her cousin's elbow and popped it into her mouth, sliding into a chair. "What's that for?"

"Wondering how you got where you did last night without taking any of the main roads," Kali said calmly, reaching for a slice of apple as Ariana blanched. She looked up sternly. "What were you thinking, anyway, going off like that in the middle of the night? And how could the two of you –"

"How do you even know?" Ariana demanded, not caring if she was admitting her guilt.

"Mason and I were up pretty late last night" – here Kali blushed as Ariana gave her a knowing smirk – "and we saw Murtagh carry you in. He came in from the front door, you know, and he was covered in blood and dust. And then this morning Mason comes in and tells me all about how a good section of the most important building has been destroyed overnight. And how these are all over Dras-Leona."

Ariana felt as though she had been punched in the gut. An extremely well-rendered sketch of Murtagh, labeled with his name and a hefty reward, was being pushed across the smooth expanse of the table towards her.

"Care to tell me what happened last night?" Kali questioned.

"Care to tell me what you've been hiding from us ever since we came?" When Kali just raised an eyebrow, Ariana lost her temper. She slammed her palm flat against the table, leaning across it, suddenly furious. "I'll tell you what happened last night. Murtagh was attacked in his room, I found him bleeding, he almost died. I went after whoever did it, and he followed. We tracked the assassin to that building, and there was a light in one window. We found Nasuada and Orrin, and they accused Murtagh of murdering innocents." She paused for breath. "What, Kalimae, is happening? If as many people as they say are dying, you would have heard of it. So tell me."

Kali pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. "It started about a month ago," she said quietly, tiredly. "We didn't know at first what to believe. There were just stories, rumors, a whisper here and there, nothing more. We began coming here more often though, because it began here. Something was wrong. People would go missing, just normal people, and turn up dead weeks later. No one knew who or what was involved. Then it worsened. Casualties began to grow, not just here but everywhere, in other cities. People became afraid to go out at night, to go out alone. They began to destroy homes, kill innocents. Women, children, and it won't end! We can't find who it is, they leave no trace. No clear, consistent weapon. Nothing. It's like fighting shadows, Ariana, and soon the rumor became that it was –"

"Murtagh," Ariana breathed.

Kali nodded. "It makes sense, in a way. He vanished immediately after Galbatorix died, Eragon left soon after, and now Arya and Murtagh are the only Riders in Alagaësia. She's in Ellesméra most of the time, and he simply disappeared. People are still firmly convinced he's a twisted, evil soul, and no one has any proof otherwise. You have to understand that he's powerful enough to do something like this and keep hidden, and if he was a loyal servant of Galbatorix's then revenge would be the motive."

"But he would never do something like this!" Ariana protested, although with a sinking feeling she remembered his viciousness the night before. But _children_? She couldn't see him attacking children, not after the way he'd left some money with the homeless child last night.

"Ariana, no one has even seen him in years! We don't know what he's been doing, or why, or where, and these attacks have been continuing for far too long. Nasuada and Orrin –"

"They need a scapegoat," Ariana said hollowly, knowing the words were true even as she gave them life. It was perfectly logical. If the killings continued ceaselessly people would lose faith in Nasuada's leadership, and she would very likely be forced to give up her throne. Political unrest would be Nasuada's undoing, and so she had enlisted Orrin's help in tracking down the most likely suspect. Everyone would believe Murtagh guilty – who would believe Morzan's son's profession of innocence? – and both monarchs would ensure that they could continue to rule. It wouldn't matter that Nasuada still loved Murtagh. She would have enough sense to realize that a romance with him would never be accepted by her subjects. Marrying Orrin would be far safer, and it would provide her with an heir for both their thrones. Unifying the kingdom and securing her political position even further.

Ariana felt sick.

"I know," Kali said quietly, reaching out and covering Ariana's trembling hand with her own. "It's terrible. But you need to leave now. At the very least, he does. They know he's here, and Mason's afraid they'll begin searching every house for him. You can't be found – they will torture you both until they get the confession they want, even if it isn't true."

"We won't stay," Ariana said thickly, trying to swallow the sudden knot of fear in her throat. "We're only putting you both in danger if we do." She stood up, the chair screeching softly against the floor. "We should go."

"Not just like that. You don't even have a plan! If he even steps out of this door someone will recognize him!"

"But what can we do? Thorn could rescue us last night only because that tower was so much higher than the rest of the buildings that there was room for him to fly! He's too large to come down here, the streets are too narrow and the houses too close together!"

"Find Murtagh and my husband, and bring them here," Kali ordered, beginning to draw thick, assured lines in shimmering black ink on the map. "I have an idea."

**A/N: Reviews? They inspire me to write! Thank you for reading! I hope life treats you well until the next chapter! (More reviews = faster update!) ;)**


	9. Escape

**A/N: Hi everyone! Here is my next chapter, I hope you enjoy it! And a big big thank you to everyone who's been reading and reviewing, you guys are the best! Your support means the world to me, this chapter is dedicated to you. :) **

Escape

He was completely unrecognizable. His hair was red, the same dark red hers had been before the strands had darkened to a shimmering brown. His eyes were green, his skin so much paler than usual, while hers had been darkened, and her own eyes switched to brown. Their ears were no longer pointed.

"I would rather take my chances," Ariana muttered, her body feeling terribly light without the usual weight of a sword or bow hanging upon it. Kalimae had insisted that she would be less conspicuous if she were unarmed; Murtagh, on the other hand, had armed himself to the teeth. That was hardly unusual for him, but she felt woefully unprotected. All she had was the elegant dagger Murtagh had given her, strapped around her hips with a slender band of leather.

"Just remember to follow these roads," Kalimae instructed, passing Ariana the map. A path had been outlined in thick ink strokes on the parchment, and she studied them closely before passing it on to Murtagh, who eyed it.

"They're all small alleys," Mason assured him. "You should both be able stay unseen on them."

Murtagh gave a sharp, small nod, before dipping his head towards the elves. "Thank you."

Mason gave him a half-smile. "Stay safe."

Ariana and her cousin shared a tight hug and a goodbye, and before she knew it she and Murtagh were out the door, he striding a step before her down the street. When he turned sharply on his heel and they emerged onto an incredibly wide, busy street, Ariana hurried to keep pace with him.

"Weren't we supposed to stay on the inside roads?" she hissed, hoping he could hear her whisper from how much higher than her mouth his ear was.

"No," he said decisively, continuing to move smoothly and purposefully along the cobbled street. "We'll attract far less attention here than if we were to be caught skulking in shadows. Turn right here."

They stepped onto an adjoining street, also a busy one, and this time Ariana took the lead, Murtagh walking so close behind her that he wound up treading on the hem of her dress occasionally. Whenever soldiers passed by Ariana fought hard to remain calm, to not give any outward sign that she was terrified they would stop her. Yet they never did, and she continued heading towards the gates, keeping her head down and trying to listen for the even sounds of Murtagh's steps over the general clamor of the city. Sometimes she lost the sound, and would breathe deeply through her nose, count to a hundred, and then listen again – invariably she would pick up the soft and steady noise of his boots, and be thankful she had kept from panicking.

"Come here," he said suddenly, his voice deep in her ear, and he took her elbow gently, guiding her into a tavern on their left. They took a table in the corner, secluded in shadows, and Murtagh waved the bartender away imperiously when he approached them.

"Atra nosu waíse vardo fra eld hórnya," Ariana mumbled under her breath, feeling the buzz of magic in her ears. _May we be warded from listeners. _"What's the matter?"

He steepled his fingers together, studying the people around them, and spoke without even looking in her direction. "I wanted to ask you, one last time, if you wish to come with us or not." He held up a hand for silence when she opened her mouth. "I know you think you want to accompany us, but…it will be dangerous for you. Thorn can drop you off anywhere, you know how to hide in plain sight, you know how to blend in with a crowd. You'll be fine, you'll be safer away from us."

"And what happens if they find me?" Angered, she let the words hang in the air between them like shards of ice before she continued. "They were searching for me even before I joined you, and now both Orrin and Nasuada are aware that we are traveling together. They will hunt the both of us down to the best of their ability, whether we are with each other or not. I am safer –" A new thought occurred to her, and she broke off. "Unless you would rather I no longer accompany you."

Murtagh's eyes snapped up to meet hers, and she stared at him, unblinking. When he spoke again, it was in the ancient language, his tone weary. "We don't mind having you with us," he said quietly. "But you will never be safe as long as you remain with us. You can tell them anything you like, that we forced you to come, that –"

"They will never believe that," she hissed, not bothering with the ancient language. She was a master of it in terms of spellcasting, but she had never been able to hold a conversation in that complex tongue as fluidly and easily as he was doing. "I broke Nasuada's scrying mirror when she attempted to summon aid."

"And you healed Orrin." He, too, switched to the vernacular.

"I couldn't…he…" she swallowed. And then remembered the feral snarl on Murtagh's face when he had slammed Orrin against the wall, remembered the awful coldness with which he had battered his already beaten enemy, and it was so hard to believe that that cruel young man was sitting before her now, his face calm, not a trace of anger or remorse in the eyes she had once thought were beautiful. Now they were cool, serene as a frozen lake. But just as icy, even without their usual silver color. She wanted to reproach him, to rage at him, for the violence he had shown, but she held her tongue. Not now.

"They'll take you back if you go," he urged. "It'll be far easier if you –"

"Easy?" she scoffed. "My life hasn't been easy since as far back as I can remember! You –" Ariana gasped as something heavy slammed against her mind, so forcefully that she was bodily flung against the back of her seat. Murtagh had jerked backwards across from her too, but his expression was more irritated than afraid. At least it wasn't that empty iciness anymore.

_You two are wasting _valuable _time, _Thorn growled, and Ariana could imagine his hackles rising. _Ariana, would you rather stay with us or have us leave you someplace safe? We have no objection to your remaining with us, but you will not be safe in our company. _

A pause, just for a heartbeat, because she wasn't quite sure still. To stay with them, she would probably be safer, and she would be with two beings as used to fighting for survival as she was. But she'd also seen the darker side of Murtagh, seen it for herself, and if he had such fury in him then Thorn was quite likely to possess it too…She bit her lip, chewing it, wondering what to do. Alone or not alone? Which was preferable? Her heart, still bleeding from the lacerations Orrin had left, begged her to remain alone, but her mind preferred the other option. Safety in numbers. Safety with a dragon's wings to protect you.

_I will stay. _She made her decision.

_Then come! _

Thorn withdrew from her mind, yet Murtagh's face was still blank, so she turned to gaze at the other occupants of the tavern while he finished his conversation, her heart still pounding. Had she just sealed her own doom? Or had this been the right choice?

"Let's move," Murtagh said, keeping his voice low, gliding off the bench and towards her. Offering her his hand, he helped her up, nodding to the others sitting around them as he led her out of the tavern, his warm hand still over hers. She knew it was for the sake of appearances, so they might not be questioned, but that didn't stop her pulse from pounding. Hopefully he couldn't feel it.

Blinking rapidly to adjust her eyes to the blinding sunlight as they left the darkened tavern, Ariana once again took the lead, her heart in her mouth. They were less than five minutes away from the main gate. Nearly there now. It was when she took another turn that she realized there was no one behind her.

Cursing, she spun around in time to see a black cloak disappear into a street behind her, and walked as quickly as she dared towards it. Her footsteps sounded unnaturally loud as she hurried behind Murtagh, following the swish of his cloak into a much darker, tighter alleyway. But now she could see him clearly, running down the alley, and she stopped suddenly. Was he just trying to lose her? Leave her behind?

Leaning back against the brick wall behind her, Ariana took a deep breath, running over her options in her mind. She could return to her cousin's house, but that would be even more dangerous for them than for her, so no. She could leave, and try to hide, moving constantly from place to place. Or she could turn herself in. It took little thought to decide. She was leaving.

She had taken scarcely two steps towards the way she had come when a loud scream erupted from behind her, and in an instant she was running, because another scream had rent the air and she could hear blades clashing. She skidded down the even narrower alley Murtagh had ducked into, and freed her dagger from her belt as the din of the fray grew closer. Yet she was totally unprepared for what she found there. The alley let out into a small cluster of homes, with only one other narrow street leading out of the residential plot. Before her lay a wounded man, a woman – his wife, most likely – was trying desperately to staunch the rapid gush of blood from the gaping wound in his chest. People were peering out of windows and another man was standing, sword in hand, before the house to her left, staring with his jaw hanging open at the furious battle whirling before them. Murtagh, his cloak swirling about him as a falchion flashed through the air at the end of his arm – Zar'roc had remained in its scabbard, she noticed – was dueling a figure cloaked and hooded so completely that she had no idea who or what it was. But it was acquitting itself well, so well that if she had not heard of Murtagh's reputation as a formidable swordsman she would have worried for him. Yet she could see proof of it now. He was handling his weapon as if it was an extension of his own body; she need not try to assist him.

Instead, Ariana bent over the wounded man, wincing as she saw fear flash in the woman's eyes. "I can help," she said softly, reaching for the magic, passing her palm over the man's broken body as she whispered the words, watching his skin knit together under her direction. It only took a few minutes, and she took a few deep breaths to steady herself before rising, wishing the woman wouldn't keep staring at her with such terror in her gaze. Magic. To people who had none, it was something to fear, and she could understand, but it always hurt to be feared that way when she was only trying to help.

"He will wake soon," she said quietly. "Keep him comfortable, he's nearly healed already."

A roar of rage from behind her made her whirl around. Murtagh, it seemed, had chased his opponent away – the hooded figure leaped with chilling agility up the wall of the nearest house, over its roof, and vanished. He turned to her, breathing hard, his pale skin flushed beneath the red hair. "We have to go," he panted, and scarcely had the words left his mouth when the clatter of hooves on cobbled streets reached their ears.

It was coming from the way they had reached this godforsaken spot, and Ariana didn't hesitate. "This way!" Seizing Murtagh's hand, she pulled him after her, releasing him as they both broke into a run, moving side by side so quickly that the tiny street around them streamed into a blur.

"Stop!" A man's voice yelled from behind them, and the noise of the horses grew louder. Without speaking, both Ariana and Murtagh picked up speed – at their best, she knew they could easily outstrip a horse. But she was tired from the healing, and she didn't know how taxing his duel had been. _Keep moving,_ she told herself, finding another burst of energy and dashing after Murtagh down another street, hearing the horses' surprised whinnies as they turned a corner too sharply to be human.

Without warning Murtagh seized her shoulder and shoved her down behind crates of fruit some vendor had stacked in the street, and Ariana fell, her cry of alarm stifled by the hand he pressed roughly over her mouth. Muttering furiously, Murtagh began casting spells to extend the shadows towards them, to hide them. He removed his hand from her face and Ariana took a quiet breath, drawing her knees up to her chest to make herself seem as small as possible, pressing her forehead against them. The scent of the overripe fruit overpowered her; it was more than strong enough to confuse the horses.

She stayed that way, forehead crushing into her knees, until the sounds of the soldiers' superstitious mutterings and the horses' hooves faded away. When she raised her head, she saw Murtagh slumped against the wall beside her, his chest heaving as he drew in deep, gasping breaths.

"Couldn't you just have cast a spell to make us invisible?" she demanded, raising herself into a kneeling position as she examined her unfortunately fragile dress for tears, thankfully finding none.

He didn't even blink. "I prefer this way. People are easy to fool, but animals, the horses, they would have noticed if I'd done that. Not seen us, not known what I did, but they would have sensed something was wrong right while passing us, and chances are the soldiers would have investigated. Shadows and darkness are natural, we drew less suspicion this way." For a moment his right hand twitched, and Murtagh drew his hood up to cover his red hair.

Hesitantly, she nodded. It made sense, in a roundabout sort of way, but what she really understood was his unwillingness to take that chance. "We should move," she said, and he nodded.

"Are you any good at changing clothes with magic?" Murtagh asked, and Ariana looked up, surprised.

"I'm not bad, why?"

"Change the color of that dress, white is far too conspicuous. Too many will remember having seen the dress, even if they won't remember your face."

Biting her lip, Ariana nodded. She should have remembered that herself! Even being exhausted from bringing a man back from the brink of death was no excuse. She'd spent her whole life depending on her ability to hide and blend in, she couldn't forget it all now. She wouldn't last till sundown.

It took her only a few seconds to change the dress to a dull brown, and she freed her hair from the knot it was tied up in to help hide her face as Murtagh pulled his hood up over his head. As they walked nonchalantly in the same direction they had come from, Ariana took his arm, and they strolled down the street towards the gates, which she could finally see, rising in black twisted spirals of iron to pierce the cloudy sky.

She felt something brush past her mind lightly, and recognized the presence to be Murtagh's. Dismantling her mental barriers, Ariana granted him entrance.

_Thorn says the soldiers are coming back in our direction, _he warned. _We need to move a little faster. _

_ How can he tell? _She asked, keeping pace with him as he sped up, her eyes flitting quickly over him. His right arm was in full view, his elbow crooked where her hand held him, but his left was concealed by the cloak, and she had a feeling his hand would be wrapped tightly around his sword.

_He's circling above us, he'll just look like an eagle to them. _Murtagh withdrew, for which she was grateful – they both needed all their attention on where they were headed. As they rounded another bend the gates swirled up into their full view, and she tensed. This was always the hardest part, it was so easy to grow overconfident, to slip up.

They approached the guards, and Murtagh dropped his hood, giving them an easy grin. "We thought we'd head out for a walk," he said, dipping his head in Ariana's direction, and she smiled shyly and drew closer to him. Same ruse as last time.

The two guards, both young, scarred, probably battle-hardened men, scrutinized them for a moment, before one of them nodded. "Be back well before sundown," he ordered, motioning to the gatekeeper to open the gates.

"We will," Murtagh assured him, still smiling that easy smile, and he nodded in parting before leading Ariana to the gate.

They had just stepped out of the gates when she heard the bellow. "Stop them!"

"Run!" Ariana dropped Murtagh's arm and they practically flew over the ground, adrenaline rushing through their bodies. They had tasted success, and would not lose it now.

"He's coming," Murtagh said, not even out of breath, as they continued to race over the ground faster than even a young stallion could run.

"They'll see him!"

"It doesn't matter, they already know I'm here."

A deafening thud rent the air, and Ariana's sharp ears caught the sound of the pursuing horses whinnying in fear. Another crashing thud, the sound of strong wings beating the air, and Murtagh suddenly stopped, his arm flashing out to catch her mid-stride. His hair was lengthening, back to its slightly overgrown state, darkening to a deep black, his eyes lightening to silver, his body elongating as it assumed its original stature, his skin darkening to the tan it used to have. With a rush, something massive swooped low above them, still hiding in the thick cloud cover, and the howling wind in its slipstream knocked Ariana over entirely – Murtagh, who had braced for it, threw his head back, letting the gale lift his hair, laughing in delight. A red tail flew by them, curling in a rapid circle around its Rider, before vanishing again, into the sky, as silently as it had come.

Shaken, Ariana staggered upright, feeling blood trickle down her chin from a cut at the side of her mouth. Feeling it was useless now that Murtagh had dropped his disguise, she returned herself to her original appearance, and changed the dress to a deep blue, her favorite color. And then she looked up.

The soldiers were approaching them, but carefully now, terror showing some of their faces, steely determination in others. They were keeping a tight grip on the reins of their horses, some of which were rearing in panic.

"What is he waiting for?"

Murtagh stepped backwards until he was by her side, not fully facing her. "He wants to have his say."

Chills ran up her spine, and Ariana had a feeling they weren't related at all to the wind. "Are you going to kill them?"

His lips thinned out into a cold, hard line. "They are liabilities. We cannot afford to let them live."

"How are they a threat?" she demanded, feeling like a cornered animal. "They are innocent, just following orders! You of all people should understand that!"

Turning to face her, Murtagh spat out his words, his face twisted with pain. "You think I enjoy killing? You think Thorn enjoys it? We hate it, we know what it is to have your hand forced, but the one thing my life has taught me is to _never take chances_."

"But what chance are you taking? Orrin and Nasuada already know you're here, how does it make a difference what these people see? They can't even see which direction we leave in with these many clouds in the sky! There is no risk for you to take!"

"Maybe," he said softly, "But they can also provide information. Any information. The fact that we are traveling together, that you left with us, how large Thorn is in comparison to Arya's dragon, who will no doubt attempt to pursue us as soon as he is able…Information is power. We cannot give them that advantage."

Frowning, Ariana crossed her arms and watched the doomed men, who were warily approaching. Did they know that any moment their death would swoop down from the skies to claim them? "They'll have a magician with them," she said lowly.

"I've found him," he replied. "The hooded figure on the gray mare. That's him."

"How do you know?"

"Least armed, surrounded by all the soldiers, safest position in the group."

"Are you –"

"Yes." His brow furrowed, Murtagh launched his invisible attack on his enemy, and Ariana saw the figure jerk on the back of his steed, so unexpectedly that the mare reared violently, and his hood fell off. _Her _hood. Rippling waves of golden hair cascaded down the woman's back as she narrowed her eyes, staring at Murtagh. His jaw had clenched, and Ariana saw the hesitation in his eyes, the indecision, the reluctance to attack. If she had been the one attacking, Ariana would not have paused. Women were as dangerous as men, sometimes even more so, as they often held grudges men would not think twice over. And they were vicious, determined fighters when roused – as she herself was. Yet part of him seemed loath to fell a woman.

His sense of self-preservation won out, as Ariana had known it would. Seconds later the woman gave a hoarse cry of agony and collapsed, tumbling ungracefully from her steed and falling limply to the grass. Cries arose from the soldiers, whose horses shied way from the stench of death, and one of them reacted without thinking. He loosed an arrow from his crossbow, and it cut through the air towards Murtagh until it dropped harmlessly to the ground a foot from his body, halted by his wards. His face was impassive, but Ariana drew her knife, sensing that this was about to become a lot messier. It did.

Yelling a command to his squadron, the captain of the group dug his heels furiously into the flanks of his horse, and baring their swords, they all rode forward, bristling with weapons. Ariana winced. She almost felt sorry for them.

With a terrifying roar, the skies burst aflame in a blaze of crimson as Thorn hurtled downwards, his scarlet dragon-fire curling over his deadly maw. One of the braver soldiers hurled a sword at the massive dragon, but it bounced harmlessly off his scales. It did, however, spur Murtagh to action. With an enraged yell of fury, he dropped his cloak and drew Zar'roc, it's blade reflecting the light of the dragon-fire hungrily, and spun elegantly into motion. Ariana stood back, watching him cut down soldier after soldier, letting their horses run free, content to watch. She was not about to participate in this slaughter of innocents – not until something clashed against her wards from behind.

With a snarl, she crouched and spun to face her attacker. The spineless whelp had crept up on her, and he dropped his crossbow in favor of a broadsword as she shifted her grip on her dagger, which felt so small in her hand. But never mind. It was in _her _hand, and she was far more skilled than this…thing. In two bounds she was upon him, knocking his sword aside with her unprotected arm, hissing as a faint crack – not loud enough to be a broken bone, but enough to send a jolt of white-hot pain through her arm – sounded in the air. But she had too much momentum to be stopped, and her right hand drove the dagger down with the unerring aim born of years of practice. He collapsed with a yell, but she ignored him, dropping to her knees and drawing her wounded arm towards her belly, whispering words of healing until the pain ebbed away. It left her already exhausted body drained, with spots flickering before her eyes, but she drew a deep breath and sprang towards the next man approaching her, the dagger flashing through the air before she dropped another soldier with two quick strokes. Letting the knife fall from her hand, she seized her victim's slender sword, catching another strike on its hilt before slashing back, beneath her opponent's guard, and then ducking and rolling to avoid a strike from another, knocking his legs from beneath him with her own and flipping up from the ground to finish him before he could her. Finding herself without another soldier to fight, she glanced around.

Murtagh, it seemed, had made quick work of the remaining soldiers. Their horses had fled, and the grass was strewn with bodies, colored with blood. He had been hurt too, a scratch on his cheekbone, a stab wound on his right shoulder, and a gash on his left bicep, but he ignored it, staring up at the sky with a blank face. His expression cleared in moments. "We don't have much time," he said, coming slowly towards her, his face tight with discomfort, if not pain. "They'll have heard that, we should go."

"Is he going to land here?"

"He'll have to," Murtagh winced. "The plan was to ride on his tail the way we did before, we'd escape faster that way, but I can't hold on with either arm now and you look too tired to manage on your own if he was to carry me in his claws." With a soft whoosh of air, Thorn alighted on the top of a nearby grassy knoll with surprising grace, the ground quaking as he took the few steps he needed to reach them. Lowering his scaly neck, he pushed his enormous snout against Murtagh, who patted his muzzle before wrapping his arms around it. Thorn rumbled deep in his chest, a sound that was strangely comforting, and he stayed in that embrace with his Rider for another few moments. Then he swung his head around to gaze at Ariana with sparkling ruby eyes. He said nothing, just looked at her, and then dipped his head.

_I am sorry, _he said, a little morosely.

_Why? You have nothing to be sorry for. _

_ We have brought you further trouble, _he pointed out, and Ariana shook her head.

_I have brought myself far more trouble on my own than you will ever be able to give me_, she said smilingly, reaching forward a little hesitantly to pat his snout. _Thank you for not leaving me_.

_We'd better go, _Murtagh interrupted uneasily. _They'll be here soon. _

Thorn eyed his Rider suspiciously. _Can you climb up with that? _

Murtagh sniffed, and eyed the still-bleeding wounds on his torso. Passing his right palm over the damage, murmuring the spells, he healed himself, cringing as the muscle and skin repaired themselves. _I can now. _

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he bent his knees and launched himself up, beginning the climb up to Thorn's back. "Follow me," he said over his shoulder to Ariana, who began to pull herself up after him, using the same footholds and handholds he was. Thorn flared his wings as they reached his back, and Ariana wrapped an arm around Murtagh's waist as the dragon took two bounding leaps forward and rose into the air, straining to gain leverage, his mighty wings pounding the air furiously.

"Here they come," Ariana mumbled, watching the gates suddenly burst open as what appeared to be half the army poured out.

Murtagh gave a chuckle that was so wickedly delighted it vaguely resembled a cackle. "Too late," he said, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. Thorn rumbled beneath them, and Murtagh rubbed the glimmering scales beneath his hand, the motion so repetitive she had a feeling it was unconscious.

Once in the skies, hidden by the thick clouds, Thorn leveled out. As they soared comfortably through the air, Ariana slipped her arm off Murtagh and asked something that had been nagging at her mind. "Who was the man in black? The one you chased?"

He shook his head. "I don't know."

"So why did you follow him?"

This time he turned around, staring at her in disbelief. "You didn't feel it?"

"Feel…what?"

"We were being watched, I could tell from the moment we stepped onto that main street…Are you sure you didn't notice?"

Mutely, Ariana shook her head, feeling numb.

"I noticed something on the rooftops tailing us, but the moment he saw me looking he fled into the street. When I caught up to him he'd attempted to murder the one man who had the courage to ask him what he wanted." He made a sound of disgust. "Eragon was naïve enough to think the war would change all this. You can't change human nature."

"Are you sure he was human, though?" Ariana asked, and Murtagh repositioned himself, sitting cross-legged facing her, his elbows resting on his knees. "I was watching your fight, he was able to fend you off surprisingly well, considering you're a Rider, and the stab wound I healed was dealt perfectly. The man would have died in ten seconds after I arrived if I hadn't interfered."

Nodding slowly, Murtagh said, "It's possible, there aren't many who could match me in a duel." He exhaled harshly. "I have a hunch, but if I'm right…then Eragon made the right decision in leaving."

"Do you think Arya will attempt to find us?"

"Definitely. Nasuada won't rest until that green fledgling sets out on his first hunt."

Ariana raised her eyebrows. "You think they won't find us, then?"

He scoffed. "They will never find us, not unless we want to be found."

"Arya is an elf, though, are you –"

"You forget who trained me!" he hissed, suddenly angry. "I learned to wield magic from Galbatorix himself, and while the mad king was many things, he was an incredibly dangerous spellweaver! He knew spells the elves have never dreamed of, he taught me nearly everything he knew, made me the most dangerous man alive except for Eragon, who is so only because of the Eldunarí he possesses!" Murtagh ran his hands through his hair, his eyes wild, almost haunted, breathing hard. He lowered his eyes, and dropped his head into his hands, his harsh breathing nearly lost in the gale Thorn's wings created.

Lost in her own thoughts, Ariana's eyes focused on the one ruby scale before her. She was bothered, incredibly bothered, by her failure to sense that they had been trailed for so long. Normally she would have noticed as quickly as Murtagh had, perhaps even faster, she was simply too good to make these mistakes! For years she had survived only by constantly watching her back and her surroundings, and she knew why she had been unable to do so effectively today. It was because, loath as she was to admit it, she felt inexplicably safe in the company of Murtagh and Thorn, to the point that she had unconsciously relaxed. She'd let herself unwind, because for the first time she felt that she could trust someone else to be the lookout, trust someone else to fight the battles she used to fight. Murtagh was dangerous, so deadly that she sometimes wondered if she'd been mad not to run from him the moment she could, but something told her she could trust him. He deserved to be given a chance, after having been a victim of fate for so long. She didn't know the details of his story, didn't know how often the shocking violence within him would erupt, but she could also see the pain in his eyes when he looked at Thorn. And she knew what he was thinking, because she had thought it so often herself. That he didn't deserve such love.

She'd never known it though, unconditional love, the kind Murtagh and Thorn had for each other – she'd thought she had, which was worse. But sitting here now, on a dragon's back, gliding through heavy gray clouds, facing a young man tortured by an unimaginably horrific past, she felt safer than she'd ever known. And for the first time, that safety she'd always longed for terrified her – or rather, its implications did.

"That falchion you were using," she said, breaking the silence, "Where did you get it from?"

Murtagh's face hardened. "It belonged to my mentor, Tornac. He was the man who taught me swordplay, and it was his favored weapon."

An icy fear twisted Ariana's gut, as one of her recurring nightmares forced its way into her mind – men fighting in the dead of night by a gate, blades flashing in the bloody light of lanterns, a scream of grief as her arrow met its mark, and her one momentary glimpse of the bereaved man, a glimpse that continued to haunt her. "What happened to him?"

"He was felled by an arrow the night we tried to escape Galbatorix's clutches," Murtagh choked out, his voice shaking. "The coward didn't even give him a chance. I'll find him one day, and when I do…" he trailed off, brooding, tense.

Ariana swallowed, her mouth and throat dry, feeling herself beginning to tremble. Her hunch had been right. For years, she'd known that one day the lives she had stolen and destroyed would catch up to her, and now she knew she had a Rider out for her blood – and his dragon, because Thorn would be so deeply affected by Murtagh's grief that he would not hesitate to help him in his quest for revenge. What would he do if he knew that the murderer he was searching for was sitting beside him, was someone whose life he had saved, who had saved his? He would hurl her from Thorn's back. No, he would invent some hideous agony for her first. After all, she deserved it, didn't she? Everyone had to atone for their sins at some point, and her punishment would be grisly at best. She'd known for years.

Part of her wanted to own up to him, to be honest and remove this crushing weight from her chest, this paralyzing terror of how and when he would discover her secret, and how he would react. But she wanted to savor the way she felt with him and Thorn, the security, the acceptance, even the tug of friendship and caring, especially from Thorn. To see their faces ablaze with fury and hatred, to see Murtagh draw his sword and strike for her life, it was…a calamity she couldn't bear to contemplate.

"Where are we going?" she asked, mainly to distract herself.

Murtagh shrugged. "I don't know."

"You don't –"

"Thorn says he's going to find someplace to land, and I am to keep quiet and refrain from pestering him until he does."

Ariana stared at him, and suddenly he made eye contact, her deep blue meeting his exquisite silver, and something in the silver twinkled. They burst out laughing, Ariana bent double as she shook with mirth, gasping for breath, and Murtagh throwing his head back as shouts of laughter escaped him. Beneath them, even though he was in midair, Thorn began humming.

At least for now, she would enjoy this blissful paradise. Even if it was already doomed.

**A/N: Pleeeeease reviewww! Thank you again to all of you who have been doing so, please keep it up, and if you haven't reviewed before please take a second and leave me a few words! Thank you everybody, see you next chapter!**


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